Gone to Madness
by Everwild
Summary: An atrocity is committed and, although Harry wishes it could remain that simple, all is not as it seems. Crumbling beneath a mask of indifference and normalcy, Harry seeks nothing more and nothing less than the truth, and hopes to see justice served.
1. The Remembered and The Forgotten

A/N: So, yeah, this is completely horrible. Snape goes insane. This is set during fifth year before Dumbledore left and after the Occlumency lessons started. Now if you could please read the following warning:

WARNING: contains violence, noncon, slash

If you have read the warnings, read this anyway, and complain about it, you are an idiot.

Disclaimer: Don't own anything *sigh*.

* * *

Severus Snape was by no means a kind-hearted man; there was no deeply buried sense of morality or honor or caring that a foolish few seemed to believe _must _be there somewhere, hidden beneath layers of pain and world-weariness. Once, when he was a child, innocent as all children are, he had allowed himself to feel. But those emotions were long frosted over with bitterness and anger. No, all that was left now was that calculated sense of superiority that exists in all Slytherins, an obsessive desire for a now impossible revenge against his childhood tormentor, and love gone to madness.

"Again, Potter! _Legilimens!" _Harry's knees buckled beneath him under the onslaught of a combination of humiliating, pleasant, and painful memories: Guarding Sirius from a horde of dementors descending upon them with rotting breath and the promise of oblivion, snatching the Golden Snitch from the air seconds before Malfoy's hand closed over the struggling ball, Mrs. Weasley holding him firmly the night of the Third Task...

"Get OUT!" Harry screamed at last, forcing Snape from his mind with an almighty shove. His Potions Professor stumbled and quickly steadied himself against the desk behind him, sneering down at Harry where he crouched on the cold, stone floor.

"Get up, Potter. Pathetic... One would almost think that you _wanted _the Dark Lord to have access to these memories, to present your every weakness before him-" Snape sneered.

"Well, I don't! I'm trying, but you're not showing me -"

"Do not interrupt me, Potter!" Snape snarled, advancing on the boy. "You _will _show me the proper respect! I am your teacher, and as such-"

"Well then, why don't you actually do your bloody job and _teach _me how to block my mind instead of just attacking me over and over again!" Harry bellowed, hands gathering into fists at his sides. For a moment, the only sound in the room was Harry's furious and heavy breathing while Snape glowered down his nose at the boy.

"I have tried to get this through that thick skull of yours time and time again," he said quietly, "Control your emotioms. Or do you honestly believe that you'll be able to kill the Dark Lord with your blind fury alone? _Legili-"_

_"Protego!"_ Harry shouted, wand drawn and pointed directly at Snape's face.

Harry found himself standing outside in Hogwarts' sunlit courtyard, a couple of feet away from an achingly familiar pair of people sitting on one of the stone benches, and watched as they continued an obviously heated discussion.

_"Severus, come on. I don't know why you bother with that lot. You know what half the school is saying about them, don't you?" A girl with flaming red hair and bright green eyes, standing in the sunlit courtyard beside a scrawny, dark-haired boy._

_"And since when do you care what other people say?" came the short reply._

_"You know what I mean! Nott, Avery and the rest of them love the dark arts. I don't doubt the rumors that have been going around the school lately – they're planning on joining You-Know-Who as soon as they turn of age next year. I don't know why you hang out with them, Sev – " _

The world was swallowed up with a blinding flash of colors before settling again on a different scene, in a darkened corridor...

_"Why the bloody hell do you want to go out with him anyway? Potter and the rest of them have only been prats to us from the beginning."_

_"Well, sometimes people deserve to be given a second chance. He seemed sincere enough."_

_"They tried to kill me!" the younger Snape cried._

_"You know as well as I do that that was your fault. You shouldn't have gone down there, no one's supposed to." Lily started to leave, pulling gently away from Severus' clinging fists. "Let me go, Severus. Let me go, it's not up to you who I go out with anyway."_

_"Like hell it isn't!" Snape shouted, dark eyes hard as he glared._

_"And what's that supposed to – " Severus leaned forward and devoured her protesting mouth in a clumsy kiss. Lily tried to push him away, confused and a little angry now._

_"Get __**off**__ me, Snape! I'm sorry, but I have to go."_

_"I can't let you!"_ The next second, the world righted itself in a dizzying sort of backflip and Harry found himself standing once again in the gloomy Potions Master's study, and in the presence of a furious, fully-grown Severus Snape.

"What the hell were you trying to do, boy?" Snape demanded, looking wildly around at Harry, lip curling in his rage.

"You-you fancied my _mum?"_ Harry asked, disgust and horror written plainly on his face.

A look of pained loss briefly crossed the professor's face, but then it was gone and a contorted visage was left in its place. "Shut up, just shut up, Potter!" screamed Snape, spittle flying from his lips as he stormed over to where Harry stood, paralyzed with shock. Snape lifted his hand and struck the boy swiftly across the face, knocking Harry sideways into the shelves of potions ingredients lining the walls. There was a tinkle of shattering glass as Harry pushed himself away from the sticky mess of some slimy foul thing he really didn't want to know the name of, and prepared to stoop down and grab his bag, feeling that the session was obviously over. Snape, however, did not make to move away and Harry found himself backed against a stone wall nose to chest with his enraged Potions professor.

"Sir, I – "

"I thought I told you to _shut up!"_ There was immediate silence as Harry snapped his mouth closed and tried to press himself further into the wall behind him, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. Something hidden by Snape's voluminous robes was poking him right in the middle of his stomach, something hot and hard and definitely _not right._

Snape lifted his hand to Harry's face again. Instinctively, Harry flinched away, but Snape only pressed the pad of his index finger to Harry's cheek, stroking the skin of Harry's face in some sick parody of a caress.

"Shut... up..." he hissed, dark eyes boring into Harry's with such intensity that Harry squirmed under his gaze, wanting desperately to be anywhere but there. The gentle touch turned painful as Snape dug his potion-stained fingernails in, drawing small, crescent shaped wounds in the flesh. Harry shut his eyes, so utterly confused by what Snape was doing and what he had seen in that memory of his mother, and allowed Snape to continue his ministrations for now but prepared to bolt at a moment's notice, muscles taught.

_"Potter,"_ Snape suddenly growled, breaking the thick silence that had permeated the room. And then, without warning, he dug his knee in between Harry's legs and lifted him up against the wall, feet dangling inches above the ground. Harry immediately started to struggle, kicking and scratching and trying desperately to touch the floor, forgetting momentarily about the wand in his pocket. But a moment was all it took.

_"Accio wand!"_ Harry's wand jumped from his pocket, straight into Snape's waiting hand and was then tossed unceremoniously to the ground, useless to him. "Not bloody likely, boy!"

Snape seized Harry's wrists in a vice-like grip and pinned them to the wall on either side of his head. "Professor!" Harry gasped, but there was nothing he could do, nothing he could say to get himself out of this.

Snape gathered his hands into one tight fist and a moment later, Harry's head snapped to the side stinging and already reddening in a bruise. There was a coppery taste in his mouth as Snape proceeded to attack his trousers, to what end Harry had no idea. Because there was no way that Severus Snape, the same Potions professor who had taunted him in class and who had once saved his life, could possibly want _that _from him.

"Foolish child..." Snape muttered under his breath, "Insolent, disrespectful, arrogant whelp!" Harry's trousers were tugged down and dropped to the floor, Snape having to adjust his position for a moment to shove them past his knee, and Harry's boxers quickly followed, leaving him in no doubt about what was about to happen. Harry immediately renewed his struggles.

"Get OFF me!" he screamed, "Let go! _Let go!_ _Let GO!"_

"Shut up!" Snape snapped, "Getting what you deserve, boy... _Look at me!_" Harry was frantic now, eyes clamped shut and his face turned away as he scrabbled against the wall, trying hard not to think about the thing that was jutting uncomfortably into his side or the fact that he was practically naked, bearing all for his least favorite teacher to see. That alone was enough to send him into an outright panic, each breath sharp, ragged, and not containing near enough oxygen to feed his hungry lungs. Snape's hand cupped his jaw roughly and forced Harry to look around at him, squeezing hard until Harry felt more blood filling his mouth, dribbling over his lips and onto Snape's pale arm.

"You will _look at me!"_ he hissed. Then Snape undid his own trowsers, allowing his straining erection to spring free, purple and throbbing with a bit of precum dripping from the head.

_This is not happening, this is not happening, this is not – _His mantra was suddenly interrupted as Snape shifted his position, releasing Harry's hands and grabbing behind his knees, lifting him up off Snape's knee as the man moved closer to him. Harry was held up between the wall and Snape's body, his legs on either side of Snape's hips and his crotch right at the man's cock. Harry was shaking uncontrollably now as he found that, even though Snape had released them, his hands were still trapped above his head as if held by invisible bindings.

Harry frantically cast his mind around, trying desperately to ignore his surroundings, but when Snape lifted him up and pressed against his hole, without any form of lubrication and unprepared, he came undone. Tears streamed down his face and there was a moment where time seemed to freeze around him before Snape thrust violently into him, ripping and tearing as he slowly dragged Harry's hips flush against his own, buried to the hilt. Then Harry screamed.

The agony was unbearable and so profoundly _wrong_, humiliating and disgusting. Harry felt that surely he was being torn in two. Snape held him there, staring straight into his green eyes, and Harry saw madness, darkness, hatred beneath the black orbs that were piercing him like knives. Something hot and sticky dripped down from – well, _there_ – and then Snape was moving inside him, pulling out just as painfully as he had entered.

The rhythm was slow at first, each jerking thrust as painful as the last, but Snape gradually picked up speed until he was moving at a frantic pace.

"No, no, no, no, no! Please! Please stop! _No!_ I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please!" Harry barely noticed the steady stream of pleas bursting from his mouth, consumed as he was by fear and the terrible agony, until he no longer had the breath for anything but his heaving sobs. The unforgiving stones grated on his back as he was forced up and down, up and down, and Harry attempted to focus on that feeling instead of what was happening to him.

What seemed like hours later, Snape gave a great shudder and hollered in Harry's ear as he came. Harry felt his insides flood with something hot and sticky while Snape rotated his hips a few more times, savoring his violent orgasm for a few more moments before pulling out of Harry with a soft plop. Harry slid to the floor and immediately gathered his knees to his chest, the choking sobs still forcing their way past his lips.

Without a glance back at him, Snape swept from the room, stooping down for a moment to snatch Harry's wand from the floor before passing through the door that could only lead to his private quarters.

Harry quickly gathered up his clothes and pulled them on the second Snape vanished from sight, fumbling with the button on his jeans and trembling uncontrollably. He rushed towards the door and yanked on the handle, wanting desperately to flee... but the door didn't budge. It was locked. For now, he was trapped in here with his mad Potions professor (because there was no doubt in his mind now that Snape had completely lost it), wandless and essentially defenseless. It was late at night, nobody would be looking for him; Ron and Hermione had probably already gone to sleep, given up on waiting for him – and he didn't blame them. Who would have thought...

The distant sound of running water came from the general direction of Snape's quarters. Harry's heart was thundering in his ears as he debated with himself. Did he dare risk getting caught on the chance that Snape had left Harry's wand lying around somewhere while he was in the shower? But what else could he do, really? He couldn't stay here. Dumbledore, he had to talk to Dumbledore... or at least Ron and Hermione. Harry really didn't want to think about the way either of those conversations would go. This entire situation was just... so humiliating.

He had fought and survived Voldemort time and time again; a basilisk, a werewolf, a freaking horde of dementors, and everything the Triwizard Tournament had thrown at him last year – and yet, he couldn't defend himself against one of his teachers. Admittedly said teacher was possibly a Death Eater and years ahead of him in magical training alone. But Harry didn't have time to think about this: Escape should be foremost in his mind, the rest could wait.

Harry paused to listen for a moment, and when it didn't seem that Snape would be coming out anytime soon, he cautiously approached the door, one agonizingly slow step at a time. He stood before it, hand outstretched with his pulse pounding in his ears, breathing raggedly through his nose as he steeled himself to just reach out and turn the handle... assuming it wasn't locked, of course.

It was just a door, nothing scary, not nearly as dangerous as some of the things he'd faced before. But then why was this so damn hard? The rusty handle felt like ice beneath his clammy fingers, and he gently pulled it open before his nerve failed him. He half expected Snape to come rushing out at him, brandishing his wand ready to curse him or attack him again. A great shudder ripped down his spine before he could suppress it.

The large, dimly lit room was, as far as Harry could see, completely empty. From behind another door off to the side, presumably leading to the restroom where Snape himself must be, came the thrumming sound of water on tile. Harry's breath whooshed out of him in a sigh of relief that sounded far too loud in his ears. Harry's eyes scanned the shadowy space as he carefully stepped further into the room, looking around for that thin piece of wood; nothing but a couple of books on the bedside tables and a sparse wardrobe, but the drawers were locked.

Gaining confidence as he had yet to be caught, Harry began his search in earnest, stripping away the pillows and sheets, searching virtually every inch of the room except of course the set of drawers that he could not pry open, no matter how hard he tried.

"Looking for something, Mr. Potter?" Harry jumped about a foot in the air and spun around, facing his professor in a defensive crouch. "Perhaps you were not content to simply inflict your presence upon me during normal classes and your abysmal Occlumency lessons, and felt the need to intrude even further upon me, long after it was clear you had overstayed your welcome. It is nearing midnight, Potter! What the devil do you think you're doing here, in my private quarters at such an hour? I thought I told you to get out!" Harry furrowed his brow at this.

"Y-you locked the door and you still have my wand!" he said boldly, straightening his back in a rather pointless attempt at dignity.

"What are you on about, boy? I do not have your -" but Snape broke off suddenly as he reached into his pocket and undoubtedly came into contact with not one, but two wands. Harry's and his own. Harry watched anxiously as Snape withdrew both wands from the folds of his black robes (was the man ever _not _wearing them) and stared at them, an angry frown forming on his face.

"Well what are you still standing there for, Potter? Take it." And, sure enough, Snape held it out to him by the tip, still looking distinctly unsettled. Harry took a wary step back.

"Is this some sort of trick?" he asked quietly. Snape's eyes flicked up to meet Harry's and Harry flinched away, unsure.

"What do you mean, Mr. Potter?" barked Snape impatiently. Harry hesitated.

"Well... you're actually...? You're going to let me go? Just like that?"

Snape snorted. "Of course, idiot boy. What possible reason could I have for wanting to keep you here? Now take your wand and get out of my sight!" Harry gaped for a moment before quickly snatching his wand from Snape's outstretched hand and hurrying towards the exit, mind still scrambling to come up with some sort of explanation for this.

Well, that was easy: Snape was barking mad.

* * *

A/N: If you guys liked it, I can continue on. You know, what does Harry do about this? What the hell's wrong with Snape? Does Harry decide to tell Dumbledore and get Snape in trouble? Or I could backtrack and tell Snape's PoV and how he got to this point. If not, it can stay an open ended one-shot.


	2. Secrets

A/N: I know that I'm late on this one, but school work prevented me from editing like I wanted to and I didn't want the story to suffer for it. From the general response, I've gathered that I should continue this. I'm glad that you all liked it and thank you for the wonderful reviews. It's nice to know that people are actually enjoying this.

No lemons in this chapter, but it has a lot of Harry angst and is setting the stage for later chapters. Yes, there is going to be a plot! Amazing, I know, especially after all the seemingly senseless rape.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Severus Snape. Lucky for poor Harry, right?

WARNING: Though I would say that this chapter is rated 'T', the same does not apply later on. This story is rated 'M' for rape, violence, and dark themes. You have been warned.

* * *

Harry's hurried footsteps echoed loudly off the dungeon walls as he scrambled to reach the Entrance Hall before his professor came after him, changed his mind, and dragged Harry back again to keep him there and never let him go. Fear spiked adrenaline rushed through his veins, pulse thundering in his ears as he darted through the darkened corridors.

The final heavy door on his path to freedom was torn violently open as Harry rushed into the comparatively blaring bright hall and fell to his knees, panting painfully on the stone floor in an effort to collect himself. His throat hurt from screaming and his following flight through the dungeons, his backside was throbbing horribly in time with his racing heart beat, and every other muscle in his body felt strung out and abused -- thus his half-hearted theory that it had all somehow been in his head, some frightening aftereffect from the Occlumency, was dispelled immediately. There was no way he would feel so horrible if the… events following his disastrous lesson with Snape had never really occurred.

He felt an almost desperate need to start screaming, to kick and tear at anything and everything that crossed his path, while at the same time he felt that anything so loud as that would shatter the illusion of normalcy he was struggling to put into place. He wanted so badly to confide in Ron and Hermione, but something in him knew that he just _couldn't, _the same part of his mind that whispered in his ear, _'what if they hate you? What if they laugh in your face and mock you for your weakness?'_ It was all so confusing and frightening; he didn't know what to do.

If Snape had indeed lost his mind, then that could mean that he wasn't just a danger to Harry now, was he? What if he hurt someone else because Harry had refused to go to Dumbledore about it the first chance he got? What if Snape had _already _attacked someone else before now and Harry was just the latest in a string of victims?

Somehow, this didn't sit well with Harry. Sure, Snape was a complete arse to anyone who wasn't in Slytherin, especially the Gryffindors, but he never actively antagonized any of the other students like he did Harry. Unlike with everyone else, Snape had a _reason _to hate Harry, to hurt him, and -- strangely enough -- a dubious reason to do what he had done.

He had repeatedly ordered Harry to look at him…

Harry shuddered involuntarily and lifted his head to look around. The Entrance Hall was still eerily silent and empty but for his own presence there, meaning that neither Snape nor any of the other professors had come looking for him. He stood on shaky legs and stooped down to throw the discarded book bag over his shoulder. A hiss of pain burst from his lips against his will as it came into contact with his raw back.

His baggy jeans clung nauseatingly to his bloody legs. They had probably been stained a dark red by now, but his robes should cover it well enough if he got caught. He desperately needed to get himself cleaned up though; his skin was crawling and itching as an intense feeling of disgust came over him. He felt so _dirty._

The Gryffindor boys' washroom was, as expected, completely empty at this time of night and Harry sighed in relief. He had no idea how to deal with his dorm mates right now, or anyone else for that matter. He stepped out of his sticky, blood-caked clothes and into a pristine shower stall beneath the cleansing spray.

_Not hot enough, _he grumbled with an irritated frown. Harry twisted the tap until the water was near scalding, and then he proceeded to scrub every inch of himself clean, making sure to be more gentle on the sore spots. Dazedly, he watched as the stream of water beneath him turned from a frighteningly thick cherry red to a watery pink before it ran clear, the blood completely gone from him. But still, he felt unclean, tainted, disgusting.

His legs folded beneath him and he sat against the shower wall, knees drawn up to his chest, head bowed as the burning water continued to pound down around him. Why the _hell _hadn't he been able to do anything to stop it? Why did it hurt him so much?

The physical pain had been terrible while it had lasted, yes, but now it was just a dull ache, a general fatigue, and still he agonized over what had been done to him. He hadn't _wanted _it to happen, he'd never… but Snape had forced himself on him while he was too weak to stop the man -- and Harry had tried _so hard _to stop him. How could anyone expect someone so pitiful as him to fight off Voldemort, to kill him, when he couldn't defend himself against a bloody teacher.

Harry gasped and shook while he sat there, resting his forehead against his knobbly knees and not even bothering to rub away the tears, until the water ran icy cold. Shivering, he dried himself off, roughly tousling his hair with a fluffy towel, and pulled on the clean robe that had appeared folded on the closed lid of the toilet seat.

He received quite a shock when he looked into the mirror over the sink and caught sight of his face. It was already bruising a nasty looking purple and black where Snape had struck him, covering a good half of his face. He hadn't realized that Snape had hit him so hard.

He'd read about glamours in Charms class last year for an essay, but they had sounded extremely difficult to cast and were debilitating to hold up over long periods of time. He couldn't obviously couldn't go to Madam Pomfrey for some bruise salve, nor could he very well go down and ask Snape for some. But then how on earth…

And then it hit him… "Dobby?" he called hesitantly. A moment later, there was a snap as the house-elf appeared, wearing his customary tower of hats and array of scarves and socks.

"Master Harry Potter sir! What can Dobby be doing for --" Dobby's eyes widened as he took in the damage done to Harry's face, causing the boy to wince in anticipation.

"Harry Potter is being injured! Is Harry Potter alright, sir? Who is being doing this dreadful thing to kind sir? Dobby will --"

"Dobby, stop!" Harry whispered urgently, desperately hoping that Dobby's shrill voice hadn't alerted anyone to his presence there. "It's fine! Nobody _did_ this to me, I… I just hit my head is all." he protested lamely, stumbling over the lie. "I just wanted to ask if you could get me something to heal this."

"Of course, sir! Dobby will be back momentarily, sir!" Dobby exclaimed, still wide-eyed and upset as he disappeared once again. Harry didn't doubt for a moment that if he were to tell Dobby that it was Snape who had attacked him, the little house-elf would believe him. Dumbledore though, and many other members of the staff, would most likely be much harder to convince. Nobody had believed him during first year when he, Ron, and Hermione had tried to explain about the stone. Why should they now, especially about something so beyond anyone's expectations?

Even if he got them to look into it, if Dumbledore used Legilimency on Snape and didn't get anything, then what evidence was there but for his word. Snape appeared to be unable to recall the entire incident and entirely stumped when he had discovered Harry's wand in his pocket. There was something wrong with the man, that much was obvious, but after Snape caught him in his quarters he had gone straight back to normal.

A dreadful hopelessness crashed over him as the realization sunk in. Did he even _want _them to believe him? To see how horribly _weak_ he really was?

But he couldn't just do nothing… _why not? Why not just forget all about it, pretend it never happened? _It would save everyone else the trouble of investigating and it would save himself from the humiliation. He would just have to stay away from Snape, or at the very least avoid being alone with the man. Occlumency… it would be better teach himself and request an end to the lessons; they had been dreadful anyway.

_Crack! _"Here is Harry Potter's bruise salve, sir." Dobby interrupted Harry's musings abruptly, holding out a squat jar of some dark green, sludgy looking substance and beaming up at him. Harry gave a little half smile in return and thanked him, taking the salve carefully in his hands.

"Is Harry Potter needing anything else, sir?"

"No thanks, Dobby. I can take care of it from here." The little elf gave a deep bow and promptly vanished, leaving Harry once more to his troubled thoughts.

He stood gingerly and placed the bruise salve on the edge of the sink, leaning heavily against the porcelain and studying his sickly reflection. Was he really going to let Snape get away with doing this to him? But there was nothing he could do.

With a sigh, Harry unscrewed the cap and smeared the green goop over the ugly bruise, wincing slightly at the sting of pain. Moments later, both the ache and all visible damage were completely gone and his face looked smooth once again, if a little pale. He was ready to return to Gryffindor tower and get some much needed sleep; he still had all of his classes to attend tomorrow.

* * *

At half past one in the morning, Harry was more than a little surprised when he entered the common room to find both Ron and Hermione still waiting for him by the dying fire, homework and books sprawled across the round coffee table and in their laps. Admittedly, Ron was fast asleep with his head lolling to the side and a stream of drool dripping steadily onto the shoulder of his wrinkled robes, but Harry appreciated the effort all the same.

"Harry!" Hermione gasped the moment she saw him, "Where have you been? Snape's never kept you this late before…?"

"I -- Sn-Snape kept me later than usual to, you know, get in some extra practice. He still seems to think I'm not trying hard enough."

Ron grunted in his sleep so loudly that he woke himself and blinked owlishly up at Harry where he sat in the plush chair beside him. "Harry, you're back, mate. Wha' timuzzit?" he slurred groggily, lazily cracking his back as he sat up a little straighter.

"It's late. We really should be going to bed." sighed Hermione. She tiredly began the process of replacing her books in her rucksack one by one and Ron reluctantly followed suit with much grumbling.

Up in the dormitory a few minutes later with Ron's guttural snores already drifting throughout the room, Harry lay on his back with the curtains drawn around his four poster, not a wink of light shining through. He had to know, he had to…

Harry listened briefly in case any of the other boys were awake before creeping out of bed towards his trunk and withdrawing the Marauder's Map. _"I solemnly sweat that I am up to no good," _he breathed, touching his wand tip to the yellowed parchment. Several minutes later, Harry found what he had been looking for: Snape's dot was still moving, pacing rapidly around his cramped office. Harry found himself unable to tear his eyes away, imagining what Snape must look like down there in the dank dungeons, unable to sleep as he walked back and forth, back and forth, feeling guilty perhaps or angry.

_"Mischief managed," _Harry whispered. Silently, he folded the parchment and stored it away deep inside his trunk. This was getting him nowhere, he needed some _rest. _With some trepidation, Harry returned to his bed and tugged the curtains shut around him, trying to quiet his whirling thoughts. He knew, without a doubt in his mind, that the nightmares would follow soon after he fell asleep, but the utter exhaustion throbbing in his limbs quickly forced him into unconsciousness… _Look at me…_

* * *

"Harry, are you sure you're alright?" Hermione asked once again. She, Harry, and Ron were sharing a table at the back of the Transfiguration classroom, attempting to change a wooden plank into a small garden snake. Hermione had already succeeded and was watching as the little serpent weaved itself between her fingers, but Ron was struggling; Harry was simply trying to avoid falling asleep where he sat. Wearily, he opened his mouth to respond but Hermione interrupted him with a roll of her eyes.

"And _don't _try and tell me you're 'fine' either. You look all peaky and as if you're about to fall over. Snape shouldn't have kept you so late, but Ron and I went to bed round the same time you did and you don't see _us _near falling asleep in every class."

Harry grunted a noncommittal response and waved his wand with a mumbled "_Serpentus Animo". _The piece of wood gave a little twitch and rolled over, smoking slightly.

"I'm just tired is all, Hermione. Nothing's wrong with me."

"If you're having those dreams _still --_" Hermione started gearing up into lecture mode.

"Just LEAVE IT, Hermione, will you?"

Harry unclenched his tightly curled fingers one by one, breathing deeply through his nose in an effort to calm himself. It wasn't Hermione's fault.

"Mr. Potter, please refrain from shouting when in my class. I will not tolerate it." McGonagall strode towards their table, lips thinned into a severe line and eyes narrowed piercingly. "If you two would demonstrate the proper transfiguration, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley."

Ron looked up fearfully, Harry resigned.

_"Serpentus Animo"_ they both said simultaneously, wands pointed at the planks sitting on their desks. Ron's made several loud popping noises, jumping and flipping over in the air before it burst spectacularly into flame. Harry's shriveled into what resembled a brittle, porous stump and fell to the floor where it shattered. McGonagall wasn't pleased.

"Practice. And Miss Granger, make sure they _do." _The bell rang a moment later and the students immediately started packing up and exiting the room. Harry hesitated before stiffly doing the same. Potions was next.

As much as Harry wanted to delay the inevitable, the last thing he needed was to receive a detention for lateness and incur Snape's wrath. As a result, he switched back and forth between lagging behind his friends and hurrying ahead of them, nervously checking in his bag for Snape's essay as he did so.

"What's gotten into you, mate?" Ron called as he and Hermione were once again forced to catch up with him. "Hold still for a minute, won't you?"

What seemed both an eternity later and yet no time at all, the trio were standing outside Snape's door with the Slytherins and their fellow Gryffindors, all of whom fell silent the moment Snape swept past them and into the room. As they settled into their seats, Snape unnecessarily called, "Silence!" and waved his wand at the board. The directions for today's potion appeared there, Prox's Death, a dangerous poison.

"You all know what to do. Begin!"

As per usual, Snape strode around the dungeons peering into students cauldrons, making scathing remarks about the Gryffindors' efforts and nodding approvingly at the Slytherins. It would appear that nothing had changed.

"Potter!" Snape barked half an hour later from over Harry's shoulder. Harry jumped about a foot in the air and accidentally knocked several ounces of a chopped leafy ingredient into his cauldron which hissed and started bubbling menacingly. "Watch what you're doing, boy! The instructions clearly stated that the belladonna wasn't supposed to be added until _after _the knotgrass, or can you even --"

"I didn't do it on purpose, I know what the instructions said!" Harry's jaw nearly dropped at his own daring.

"Insolent little brat! How _dare _you interrupt a professor!" Snape raised his wand to vanish Harry's now useless potion, but Harry flinched so violently that he paused. "I'm not going to curse you, boy." And with a wave of his wand, the contents of Harry's cauldron disappeared. "Another zero, then, and five points from Gryffindor."

It wasn't until Snape had stalked to the other side of the room that Harry unfroze and started to put his ingredients away. He couldn't even muster enough indignation to be properly angry at Snape now.

"Harry, you're shaking and you look pale as a sheet." Hermione whispered, "Are you sure --"

"Yes, Hermione, I'm perfectly alright! Now will you stop bothering me?" he hissed through clenched teeth. Hermione gave him an injured look and turned back to her own cauldron unhappily, obviously still worried and a little hurt. A wave of guilt washed over him, but Harry couldn't bring himself to apologize. If she would just leave him alone, that's all he wanted.

The bell signaling the end of class rang out through the dungeons, and Harry tore out of the classroom as quickly as his feet would carry him, ignoring the yelled, "Mr. Potter!" that Snape sent his way. He couldn't stay there any longer.

When the rest of the class had filed out at a more reasonable pace, Snape remained standing in the middle of the room with a furrowed brow and a couple of angry questions still on his lips. Why did Potter seem so… tightly wound? It was almost as if the boy was afraid of him or some such nonsense. What could he and his little friends be up to now?

With a scowl on his face, Snape turned on his heel and marched deeper into the dungeons in the direction of his office, black cloak whipping about his ankles. It had been too long since he'd had a good glass of brandy.

* * *

A/N: I'm hoping that you all enjoyed it! Please tell me your thoughts and opinion of the story in a review. Next update should be next Monday or so.


	3. Lying Through Your Teeth

A/N: So, yeah, sorry about the lateness and the shortness of this chapter. All I can say is that the muse went on holiday for a bit and has finally returned. In general, I suck at deadlines so I really should just give up on making so many for myself. *shame*

Anywho, thanks to all the lovely reviewers! I'm pretty sure I answered all of them, but I've never had so many to deal with so soon. You guys are awesome! Keep it up!

But enough of my senseless chatter! On with the story!

Disclaimer: Still don't own it. I think I would know, seeing as I'd be rich, famous, and most likely NOT writing this on fanfiction.

* * *

Harry rushed from the dungeons, feeling an irrational panic overtake him as he pounded up the stone steps. Snape couldn't hurt him now, not with so many people around, not in broad daylight. All Harry had to do was avoid getting detentions with the man and speak to Dumbledore about putting a stop to the Occlumency lessons. That was all he had to do.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped out into the Entrance Hall, the light and cleaner air helping to clear his head. Ron and Hermione had not managed to catch up with him yet, still somewhere down in the dungeons. He supposed that he was being unfair to them by shutting them out and snapping at Hermione's attempts to help him, but at the moment he was just glad to be alone, away from Snape, away from his friends who would question and pity him. He knew that they meant well, but it was annoying and pointless all the same. There was nothing they could do to erase what had happened or make it better. There was nothing _anyone _could do.

His stomach lurched sickeningly and he clapped a hand to his mouth to suppress the sudden urge to be sick. Another wave of nausea washed over him, signaling the imminent and unpleasant coming sensation and he quickened his pace in search of the nearest bathroom. He skidded around the corner and wrenched the door open, stumbling through the nearest stall door and falling to his knees. He heaved violently into the toilet and slumped forward, resting his forehead against the cool porcelain.

This wasn't going to go away. _Why _wasn't it going away? It was _over. _Snape, for one, was acting as if nothing had even happened between them, nothing besides the usual verbal battles they waged daily of course. It was all so confusing and unreal.

Shaking slightly, Harry stood, bracing himself against the stall wall as his aching back protested, and splashed his face with a bit of cold water at the sink. If he was to face Dumbledore, he'd damn well better be pretty convincing. This wasn't the time to wallow in self-pity, what he needed now was action; if he just did nothing and continued on with this horrid pretense of normalcy while he was forced to be in Snape's vicinity almost every single day… he'd go insane.

And so, with a fresh resolve, Harry glared at his pale reflection in the spotted and cracked mirror before turning on his heel and marching through the bathroom door and down the corridor, towards the headmaster's office. But when he reached the aged stone gargoyle, he froze.

"Er… acid pops?" he tried with little hope. "No? Alright then, cockroach cluster, fizzing whizzbee, Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans? Blood pops? Lemon Drop?" Professor Dumbledore was becoming far too predictable, Harry thought as the gargoyle leapt to the side to reveal the hidden spiral staircase. Not that he was complaining, but just about anyone could get in if they only guessed the right flavor candy.

Harry lingered for a moment at the door with his fist clenched around the heavy, brass knocker, trying to gather his scattered thoughts. But a moment before he could make the decision, the door burst open and his stomach dropped.

_"Shut up!_ _Getting what you deserve, boy... __**Look at me!"**_

_Harry was frantic now, eyes clamped shut and his face turned away as he scrabbled against the wall, trying hard not to think about the thing that was jutting uncomfortably into his side or the fact that he was practically naked, bearing all for his least favorite teacher to see. _

_"You will __**look at me!"**_

_Snape held him there, staring straight into his green eyes, and Harry saw madness, darkness, hatred beneath the black orbs that were piercing him like knives._

_"Please! Please stop! __**No!"**_

Severus Snape narrowed his eyes as he glared down his hooked nose at the boy, lip curling in a horrible sneer, and made a derisive noise in the back of his throat before stalking down the stone steps and out of sight, black robes billowing behind him. Harry stared after him as he recollected himself, heart suddenly pounding his chest. The minimal sense of calm that he'd managed only moments ago was gone, out the window, and replaced by the same combination of rage, fear, and helplessness that he had felt in the dungeons during Potions.

"Harry?" called Professor Dumbledore from within the large office, "Are you alright, my boy?" Harry groaned inwardly at the predictable and now standard question and hesitantly stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind him.

"I'm fine, sir. I just wanted to, er, talk to you… about something." he mumbled, color rising in his cheeks at the rather pathetic opening statement.

Dumbledore gestured for him to continue, watching with concerned eyes. Harry licked his chapped lips. "I -- Snape's…" He paused, completely thrown off by the short encounter with his attacker. "I think that, maybe, I should stop going to-to Occlumency lessons. For a while, at least."

"And what exactly, my boy, has brought this on?" Dumbledore asked. Harry looked into those sparkling blue eyes and saw amusement and patronization; a knife twisted in his gut.

"He -- Well, you know what he's like, what he's _been _like every time we're in the same room together! He's just using these lessons to hurt me and -- and invade my privacy. I haven't learned anything from him at all! In fact, I think it's actually gotten worse since I've --"

"That is quite enough." The words were spoken calmly enough but with a new ringing authority, and Harry promptly fell silent. "Harry, I know that these lessons must be difficult for you, what with your and Professor Snape's long-standing animosity towards one another, but I assure you that he is trying to help you here and that he is the best teacher you could find in such an obscure branch of magic. Your mastery of Occlumency is absolutely essential in this war, Harry, and I had hoped that you would be able to be more mature about this and overcome any negative feelings." Harry's heart sank as the realization crashed over him. Dumbledore wasn't going to help him. "Now, it is my wish that you continue your lessons with Professor Snape, every Wednesday at the usual time, like it has been for the past year. I trust Severus with my life, and though the two of you will likely never be the best of chums, I wish for you to attempt the same."

"But, Professor, please…" Harry said desperately.

"I am sorry, Harry, but my decision is final." Dumbledore moved around his desk and sat in the winged, plush chair contentedly.

"But I thought that, if I had some time to try and practice on my own, it might --"

"_No_, Harry." said Dumbledore, showing the first sign of impatience or irritation that Harry had ever seen in him.

"But Professor, I've hardly gotten any better and it's almost been a year since I started with him! Don't you think that maybe, with a different teacher -- one who _doesn't _hate me -- it might be easier and go more quickly?"

"Professor Snape is an excellent Occlumens, the best there is. I implore you to trust my judgment on this matter, Harry. I will hear no more of this." Silence swelled in the room, suffocating. Harry took two steps back, away from his trusted Headmaster and mentor. He couldn't go back to those lessons. He felt as if he has just been condemned to death row.

"Now, was there anything else you needed, my boy?" The words sounded distant, as if they were reaching his ears through a long tunnel. Harry shook his head, no, and backed further away, face completely blank, disguising the toil going on behind it. There was no way in hell he was going to go back there, back to Snape. "Well, if that is all, then I suggest you hurry along to the Great Hall for dinner. I don't doubt your friends have missed you."

"Yes, sir." said Harry, and without another word, he turned and left the comforting, ornate office to descend the stairs and, when he was out of earshot, broke into a run.

* * *

The Great Hall was the same as it had ever been, students chatting noisily at their tables without a care in the world, the usual covert glances sent his way as he walked steadily towards Gryffindor's table halfway through dinner. Ron and Hermione welcomed him easily, scooting to the side to allow him room between them.

"What the bloody hell was that about in Snape's class? Where've you been?" Ron demanded the moment he sat down.

Ignoring the first question, Harry attempted to casually say, "I had to talk to Dumbledore, I've been up in his office since Potions."

"Are you okay? Was it your scar?" asked Hermione anxiously. He supposed it was a logical conclusion to make.

"No, nothing like that." Harry made a split second decision to stick as closely to the truth as possible. "I just wanted to see if I could quit 'remedial potions' with Snape, just for a bit to see if I'd do any better on my own or with someone else." he added at Hermione's disapproving look.

"Well, what'd he say?"

"He said -- yes!" _Oh shite!_

"Really?" Hermione's eyebrows flew up skeptically and Ron let out a whoop of joy. "That's great, mate!"

"But how are you going to practice on your own?" _What the hell was he doing?"_

"Er… There've got to be some books on it in the library somewhere, and I could practice the techniques before going to bed and stuff." said Harry carefully.

"I suppose…"

"Ah, leave him alone, Hermione. He'll do fine!" Ron interrupted, reaching across Harry for a spoonful of mashed potatoes. "'Sides, how's he 'spose tah be all 'motionless an' stuff wiff Shnape in da room?"

"Oh, I don't know. If this is what you really think is best, Harry…" Hermione was watching him carefully so Harry quickly took a bite of pork roast before responding, as nonchalantly as he could, "It is."

Unable to stop himself, he cast a quick glance towards the staff table before swiftly turning away, back towards his meal. Snape was watching him. He suddenly didn't feel nearly as hungry as he had walking in, and took a sip of his water in an effort to calm his rebelling stomach. He did _not _want to be sick again.

"Harry? Harry, you alright, mate?"

"What?" Harry looked up from his plate, startled, to see both Ron and Hermione staring at him nervously. "What?" he asked again, though much more defensively than before.

"You've just been acting a little strange lately. It's like you weren't there for a minute." said Ron cautiously.

"I told you guys, I'm just tired. Everything's fine." Harry sighed, running a his fingers through his wild, dark hair, causing it to stand on end.

"If you're sure." Ron and Hermione's eyes met briefly, and Harry could tell that they didn't believe him.

"Yeah, 'course I am." Harry muttered.

For the rest of the meal, he kept his eyes firmly on his plate or the faces of his friends and classmates, determined not to look or even think about Snape as he finished his meager dinner and left the hall for the comfort of the Gryffindor common room and his warm, soft four-poster bed. However, if he had, he might have noticed the fact that the Professor's eyes never left him, not once, and flashed occasionally with a horribly familiar hungry gleam or rare glint of red. If he had, he might have learned that his continued lack of safety was never a question, and just maybe, ended the whole damned charade before it could _really_ begin.

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A/N: I know it's not my best work, I'm still not happy with it. I'll probably go over it again later and make some changes but I didn't want to keep you guys waiting_ too_ long. Plus, I didn't really like this chapter, all transition-y and stuff, but there's not much for it. Next time, we get a little more Severus-Harry interaction and, hopefully, a more cooperative muse.

Just a heads up, I'm looking for a beta for this story so if anyone's interested, mention it in a review or PM me.

So? Like it? Love it? Think it needs some work? Tell me in a review to give inspiration and motivate me to fix any mistakes.

Thanks for reading!


	4. At A Loss

A/N: It's not neccessary that you reread this. Nothing essential has changed, I just did a little editing to help the flow. It's really not that different at all, but there were a couple little things that just started bugging me when I reread it after I'd already updated.*sigh*

Reviewers are awesome! Over two thousand hits, 15 favs, and 33 alerts! *does happy dance*

Disclaimer: Contrary to popular belief, I am not the wealthy and wonderful JKR. I write for fun, not profit.

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The following Wednesday, Harry's growing anxiety reached its peak, the gravity of his wretched situation omnipresent and oppressive throughout the day so that by the end of supper, he was outright panicking. What the hell had he been thinking? Because Ron and Hermione didn't know that Dumbledore had refused him, they would be expecting him to stay with them in the common room, struggling through the homework load just like any normal day. Incidentally, the common room was the very first place Snape would come looking for him when Harry _didn't _turn up for lessons, most probably feeling just a tad bit murderous and/or sadistic. Bloody fantastic this night was going to be.

This, of course, was completely ignoring the fact that if he somehow managed to avoid Snape coming to throttle him during the night, he would end up having to deal with the man in Potions the next day and any angry teachers Snape decided to tell - including Dumbledore, who would be so terribly disappointed in him once again.

Harry considered his third, final, and by far his worst option: tell Ron and Hermione that he had in fact lied to them about Occlumency, head for the dungeons, and pray that Snape managed to retain his sanity throughout the night. This scenario would entail a good few hours spent alone in the man's company, far away from anyone who might hear him and be able to come to his aid - something Harry knew he had to avoid at all costs.

Harry glanced up from the patch of stone floor in front of his feet, surprised to find himself before the portrait of the Fat Lady so soon, his feet having carried him there without any conscious effort, still completely undecided. He hovered uncertainly a short distance away and shifted his weight nervously from one foot to the other.

"Well? Planning on standing there all night are you?" demanded the Fat Lady impatiently.

"Er…"

He could run. He could head up to the boys' dormitory, pack away his belongings, and just bypass the whole messy problem altogether… But then where would he go? The Dursleys'…? Harry highly doubted that they would be pleased to see him, and then someone would come looking for him there, bring him back. He would probably receive a smack on the wrist, _("Naughty boy, what were you thinking trying to stay away from the psychotic rapi-teacher!) _and then everything would fall back into this, only with more people watching him, ready to report him if he tried anything. There was no way to win! _No way out!_

"Oh, don't mind me boy. I'll just sit here, shall I, until you've made your so very important decision?" the portrait grumbled, eyes narrowing as she watched him standing there dithering on the spot.

"Sorry," Harry muttered, gritting his teeth. _"Venomous Tentacula."_

The Fat Lady swung on her hinges and Harry stumbled through the portrait hole, wondering frantically not for the first time what it was exactly that he intended to do.

"Hello, Harry." said Hermione, smiling kindly up at him from her seat by the fire. She seemed to think that Harry's mentality at the moment was the equivalent of spun glass: delicate, liable to shatter at the slightest provocation. Apparently the idea hadn't occurred to her that it irked him far more to have his friends tiptoeing around him like he was some mental case.

"Hey." Harry sat heavily in the plush armchair beside Ron and dropped his book bag at his feet.

"There you are, mate, we lost you after dinner." Ron looked up from the blank sheet of paper on his lap inquisitively.

"Yeah, erm, I had to stop by the library real quick," Harry invented, "you know, for that essay…"

Ron rolled his eyes and Hermione eyed him carefully. "Right, so have you finished Professor Sprout's homework yet, 'cause I could really -"

"Actually, I was going to go down to the Room of Requirement and try out this new Occlumency technique I found the other day. I have to be alone for it to work." he added quickly, seeing Hermione open her mouth to offer her and Ron's assistance. "I'm probably going to be out pretty late, so you guys shouldn't wait up for me."

"Are you sure, Harry?" Hermione asked, still skeptical. Harry knew that she could see something wasn't right, that she was suspicious and rightfully so.

"Well, yeah. I don't want you guys missing any sleep because of me. I'll be fine; It's not like I haven't gone out by myself before." Seeing that no further objections were made, Harry continued, "I guess I'll see you guys tomorrow, then." Harry stood and slung his book bag over his shoulder, taking a moment to make sure he still had his invisibility cloak on him, the silvery folds still bunched up beneath the textbooks and parchment. Harry waved goodbye half-heartedly and turned to go.

"See you later then, mate." Ron called after him, turning glazed eyes back to the blank essay before him. Harry stepped back through the portrait hole feeling wretched. He heard the Fat Lady mumbling angrily to herself ("Why am I not surprised?…So inconsiderate!") before he turned and made his way quickly towards the fifth floor.

He caught himself glancing nervously over his shoulder more than once and jumped violently at the slightest sounds. It was completely ridiculous, he knew, but he couldn't find it in him to stop himself. He would be safe as soon as he reached his destination.

There weren't many students out and about by this time, most having settled in the library or their distinctive common rooms to complete their homework and relax, so the corridors were clear and Harry made it to the Room of Requirement without incident.

He took a deep breath to steady himself, then quickly walked back and forth past the blank stretch of wall three times. _I need a place to hide, I need a place to hide, where no one can find me, I need a place to hide…_

A plain, wooden door materialized from within the stone and Harry immediately seized the handle and slipped inside, closing the door silently behind him. The room he had created was very simple, quite similar to the common room actually, with a comfortable looking sofa, a roaring fire, and a single bookshelf in the corner. Upon closer inspection, Harry found that most of the books were merely for recreation, something to pass the time while he stayed.

Settling into the deep cushions of the couch, Harry dragged out the Occlumency text and started to read. He hadn't been lying about _that _after all; he knew that learning this would be crucial to the war effort against Voldemort and he intended to get in some real practice.

The flames crackled merrily in the grate, casting simultaneously their eerie shadows and flickering, warm light across the room. And so, the night begun.

* * *

Harry grunted and stirred lightly in his sleep, the thick book lying open on his chest and rising and falling steadily with each breath he took. The fire was dying, spitting and popping occasionally as the embers glowed a deep red. The room was quiet and peaceful - the calm before the storm as some would say.

An exceptionally loud _pop_ from the fire finally caused the boy to wake, jerking and blearily opening his eyes in a groggy haze. He felt more relaxed than he had since before the third task - no one to disturb him, thrust their expectations on him, or insult him - and for a moment, the isolation was bliss.

Then reality kicked in, obviously feeling sore that Harry had managed to escape it for so long. He would have to run away, leave the castle and the friends that it had brought him. Of course, he'd write to let Ron and Hermione know that he was okay and not captured by Death Eaters or anything, but after tonight he wouldn't be able to come back. Why did it surprise him that _Snape _was the one who so thoroughly managed to taint the place for him and all the memories he had here? _Because he had never expected that a teacher, a __**guardian **__and a __**protector**__, would sink so low as to… to…_

Harry scolded himself thoroughly as his eyes watered and filled with tears despite his furious blinking. _What the hell is wrong with me?_ He shook himself mentally and gathered his wild emotions, burying them behind a wall of indifference, a wall of strength.

Harry wished that there was a clock somewhere in here; not knowing how long he had been asleep made him uneasy, and now that he had something resembling a plan, he itched to be moving. No sooner had the thought popped in his head than an ancient wall clock appeared above the mantle, reading about five minutes past midnight.

The teachers would still be out patrolling the corridors, but Snape at least should not be looking for him; he was four hours tardy after all, and if the professor hadn't found him yet…

Determined, Harry picked up his belongings and threw his father's invisibility cloak over his shoulders, the surrealism of his choice still resonating in his scattered mind as he made his way through the empty hallways, moonlight pouring in through the tall windows.

Harry was about to turn the final corner before Gryffindor Tower when he very nearly collided with the source of his problems. His eyes widened and the breath whooshed out of his lungs in a startled gasp as he threw himself out of the way, wincing as he stumbled into the wall. Snape, of course, noticed the disturbance even if he couldn't see Harry and his beady, dark eyes darted up and down the corridor in search of the rule-breaker.

Harry held his breath and pressed himself further into the wall, panic forcing his brain into overtime as he scrambled to make himself as far from this man as possible, heedless of his shuffling footsteps. Snape glanced towards the floor at Harry's feet and a sneer curled his thin lips.

"I know you're here, Potter!" he barked suddenly, "Come out now and I _may_ decide to be generous with you. Show yourself, Potter!" For a moment, Harry was frozen, paralyzed by fear as he waited for the inevitable confrontation. The professor knew that he was here, and that he had avoided the night's Occlumency lesson - reason enough for expulsion or, at the least, a good few nights' worth of detention.

Snape lurched forward without warning and he nearly managed to snatch Harry's invisible shoulder, but the boy moved quickly, nerves jangling with fear and adrenaline.

Harry darted to the side, turned tail and ran, practically _flew _down the corridor, his father's invisibility cloak flapping around his heels, exposing his feet.

"Get BACK here, Potter!" came the angry cry from behind him.

Harry heard Snape coming, but he had youth, size, and agility on his side… not to mention the years of practice he had had with Dudley and his gang before his eleventh birthday. He did not, however, notice the brightly colored hex aimed at his retreating back until it crashed into him, turning his legs to so much jelly beneath him. The invisibility cloak tangled around him as he fell hard on the stone floor, and ended up trapped beneath him so that Harry's body was more visible than not when Professor Snape approached him. His heart pounded dreadfully in his chest; Harry was sure that Snape could hear it.

"Where were you, boy?" Snape demanded while Harry lay motionless at his feet. "I know that you requested to put an end to the lessons, but I never thought you'd be so _stupid _as to_…" _Words apparently failed him for a moment as he put his long fingers to his temples in frustration. "It seems that I have miscalculated."

The silence was punctuated only by Harry's labored breathing, but lasted for just a few moments before the professor snapped at him again, obviously enraged. "Well?"

Harry considered keeping quiet and just hoping that Snape would not care enough to pursue the subject, but the look on Snape's face was frightening, and in the end he mumbled something nearly inaudible in response and attempted to move his legs, not wanting to face Snape from the floor.

"What was that, boy?"

A wave of frustration and helplessness rushed over Harry so suddenly that it took him a moment to register the words that came out of his own traitorous mouth. "None of your fucking business, Snape!" The feeling, along with the temporary insanity that had come with it, left as quickly as it came. Harry was horrified.

Snape's eyes narrowed cruelly and he lifted his wand over Harry's prone form, causing the boy to flinch violently. A moment later, he realized that it was just the countercharm to whatever Snape had hit him with and he allowed his tense muscles to relax slightly as he pushed himself to his feet. Before he had a chance to even consider making a run for it, Snape's long-fingered hand had wrapped around Harry's wrist and was pulling him none too gently down the corridor, away from Gryffindor Tower and away from safety.

"Insolent brat…" Snape muttered under his breath, giving Harry's arm a particularly strong yank. Harry knew that they were going to the dungeons, most likely Snape's office, all disgusting jars, icy air, slimy walls, and dark corners.

"_Getting what you deserve"…_

"No!" Harry gasped. He began to fight Snape in earnest, twisting and writhing in his grasp. Snape stared at him, bewildered for a moment, and then took charge, tightening his hold and quickening his pace as they descended the stone stairs beneath the castle.

The words spilled from Harry's mouth in a torrent, unrestrained as he lost control. "Let me go, you bastard! Geroff! Damn you, _don't touch me!"_ All of which Snape appeared to ignore, stoic and emotionless mask back in place.

Snape unceremoniously threw the door to his office open with a bang and dragged Harry forcefully around him and inside the small room. Harry's eyes flitted about the room, the horrible memories surfacing. Snape shoved him into a hard backed chair and cautiously released him. Both were surprised to find that Harry didn't move, seemingly resigned to his fate.

"What childish game is this, Potter? Making such a ruckus… probably woke half the castle with your screaming…" Snape snarled, settling down behind the desk.

"I don't know." Harry moaned miserably, letting his face fall into his hands. There was no way he was going to _cry_, not now in front of Snape. "What d'you want?"

"Simply to ask you why you were not _here, _at _eight o'clock _like you were supposed to be?" he hissed.

"I forgot, okay?"

"Oh really? Then what, pray tell, were you doing wandering around the castle at night instead of with your little friends in the Tower? What are you hiding?"

"Nothing!"

Snape scoffed and strode around his desk in a flurry of black robes, looming over Harry like a great shadowy beast. "And why should I even _consider_ believing you, Mr. Potter?" he whispered, lips forming the words carefully, delicately.

"I wasn't doing _anything, _I swear, just let me go back!"

Snape lifted one sarcastic eyebrow in disbelief and leaned his face in closer to Harry's.

The boy promptly leapt from the chair and backed away, frantic, into the dungeon wall. Snape, quite bemused now, followed after him, becoming quite curious about the boy's strange behavior.

"You, Granger, and Weasley are up to something, aren't you? Another one of your heroic little escapades, hmm?"

"We haven't done anything and we're not planning anything!" Harry shouted, "Just leave me alone!" An attempt to flee was thwarted as Snape placed himself strategically between Harry and the door, trapping him.

"Potter -" Snape growled softly.

"NO!" Harry had screamed the word at the top of his lungs, and Snape watched Harry's hand dart into his robes in search of his wand.

"_Stupe-"_

"_Expelliarmus!"_ Once again, Harry's wand soared out of his grip and into Snape's deftly outstretched hand.

"Explain yourself!" Snape snarled in his most threatening voice. Harry's legs shook beneath him, feeling as though they were about to collapse beneath him.

He took a deep breath, repeated the lie once in his head: "There's nothing _to_ explain! I fell asleep in the Room of Requirement and wanted to get back before I was caught, alright?"

Snape glared at him, brows furrowed, with a calculating look in his dark eyes as if Harry were some puzzle he felt he needed to solve. Eventually, "Tomorrow directly after dinner, I will personally escort you to my office for the missed lesson. If you try to run _again, _I will have to tell the Headmaster. Understood?"

"Yes." said Harry quietly.

"Yes, _sir!"_

Harry grimaced. "Yes, sir."

"You may go now, Mr. Potter."

The moment Snape removed himself from Harry's path to the door, Harry did the thing he had wanted to since he had been caught outside the portrait hole: he fled.

* * *

A/N:Ooh! The angst! The drama!

Review please! Your input and encouragement is inspiring.

I've decided that #25 will recieve a drabble topic of their choice, so keep sending them in. Still searching for a beta as well.

See you guys in Chapter 5


	5. Uncertainty

A/N: And at last, I give you...dun dun duuuhh... Chapter 5. Spent forever on this, so I hope it's good. I think I rewrote it like three times!

I was kind of practicing with my dialogue throughout this chapter and the thought sequences. I don't know if anyone's noticed, but whenever I have conversations between characters, they always seem a tad short. Not in this one though, major confrontation coming up. Here's to hoping I did it justice.

25 reviews so far! Really you guys are amazing :) **slashypotterness**, I will get your drabble out by the 11th. Love the topic you chose, I'm having fun with this. *evil grin*

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters, recognizable situations, or places.

Hope you all like this one!

_**

* * *

****Chapter 5: Uncertainty **_

When Harry finally trudged around the last corner before the entrance to Gryffindor tower, having thoroughly exhausted himself for the night, he found that the Fat Lady was fast asleep in her portrait, head leaning against the frame. She was not pleased to be woken so abruptly a moment later when Harry cleared his throat and called out the password as loudly as he dared.

"Was that really necessary?" she grumbled sleepily. Even so, she swung forward and allowed Harry to pass over the threshold, stumbling with tiredness and the aftermath of the adrenaline he'd had pumping through his veins only minutes ago in the dungeons.

"Where've you been?"

Harry nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden sound of a female voice in the otherwise silent common room. He looked up quickly in the direction the question had come from to find Hermione sitting with her legs crossed in the wide armchair by the dead fire. Her eyes were sharp, like chips of ice, as she glared at him, her body taut and stiff as a board where she sat.

"Er… Sorry?" he asked, frozen halfway towards the dormitories.

"You heard me." said Hermione loftily, folding her arms across her breast, "Snape came in here earlier… looking for _you._ He said you never showed up for Occlumency tonight." She raised her eyebrows imperiously and waited for his response.

Harry licked his lips, suddenly feeling hot all over at the implications of her words, her accusation.

"I was…" Harry coughed nervously and tried again, "I was in the Room of Requirement… you know, studying…" Hermione said nothing and Harry could do nothing but stand there, shuffling his feet uncomfortably and trying to avoid her piercing gaze. She knew. She _knew _that he had lied to them about something that was, in her eyes, extremely important. Something that might save or destroy his life, not to mention the countless others he could end up endangering as a result.

The guilt was stifling and overwhelming. He had never lied to Ron and Hermione before, not _really, _never about something like this.

"Were you? _Were you really?" _There was another pregnant pause. The air seemed to crackle with the tension in the room, thick and filling Harry's ears with the incessant buzzing.

"Yes." he said at last, a little defensively. He hadn't lied about _everything _after all.

"Don't lie to me, Harry! It ticks me off like you can't imagine. What were you doing if you ditched Occlumency?

"Exactly what I said!" Harry snapped indignantly. Her lack of trust in him stung, even though he knew that it was well deserved. "I was in there all night reading about Occlumency!"

"Why? If you were just going to be practicing anyway, then why did you feel the need to lie to us and skip Professor Snape's lesson? He was absolutely furious when he came in here, Harry, and he had every right to be! Of all the irresponsible -"

Harry interrupted her with the almost-lie he had told Dumbledore in his office. "It's not like either of us would mind me quitting! Snape's been a right git every time, and it hurts like hell, and it's all so completely _pointless!"_

Hermione finally moved, leaning forward so that her elbows were resting on her knees, rubbing circles over her temples in exasperation.

"Harry, I know that you don't exactly enjoy Occlumency," Harry snorted derisively and spun on his heel so that he flopped down into a chair beside one of the tables, settling in for the imminent lecture. " But you can't just run away from your problems like this! You're not like that, Harry, I know you. Something happened -"

"_Nothing's _happened! I'm perfectly fine!"

"Well, obviously, you're not." Harry rolled his eyes. Of course, she couldn't even just be angry with him like a normal person - No, she had to pick him apart piece by piece until she found every scrap of motivation for the latest idiotic stunt he pulled. "You've been so angry this past week, so easy to set off it's like walking through a minefield with you! You're scaring me, Harry, I don't know what's _wrong _with you! Harry was horrified to see that her eyes were glazing over with tears and her expression was softening. The corners of his eyes prickled and Harry blinked in an effort to prevent his own unraveling.

Hermione jumped to her feet and began pacing in front of the fireplace angrily. "You're not like this, you don't lie to us and you don't go behind our backs, and I've never known you to so plain mean! And it frustrates me like you won't _believe." _The last was uttered in a hoarse whisper as Hermione began to cry in earnest, stomping her foot in typical fashion before she collapsed back into the overstuffed armchair, hands covering her face.

"Hermione, don't…" he said weakly, unconsciously standing up and moving towards her. "Don't cry."

Looking back, Harry realized just how cold he'd been to his friends (well, everyone really) since he'd come out of Snape's office bloodied and confused. If she only knew…

_Don't even go there, _he scolded himself, _there's nothing to gain from letting her know. She doesn't need to hear about something like that._

It was selfish to consider forcing that knowledge on her or Ron for that matter, utterly selfish and pointless. It wouldn't solve anything to make her feel the guilt, shame, and anxiety he'd been living with. How could he be so childish?

"It's alright, there's nothing wrong with me, Hermione. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Harry rested a hand on her shoulder and knelt beside her, head lowered in shame.

"Liar," she mumbled.

"I'm not, honestly Hermione, there's no need to get so worked up over me." said Harry, lip curling in a grim smile.

"You're not telling us something, I know you're not."

Harry could think of nothing to say to this. There was no point denying it at this point.

"You _will _tell us though, if it's something you can't handle." It wasn't a question or a command, merely a statement of fact. As if he had ever been able to 'handle' it.

"I will, I promise."

Hermione leant down and wrapped her arms around Harry's shoulders in a watery embrace. Harry's flinch did not go unnoticed, but she decided that it would be better not to mention it, even though she was anything but content with the knowledge of Harry's promise. She wished she could believe that he wasn't lying, but there was nothing else she could do. Never before had she felt so helpless.

She pulled away gently, scrubbing the tears from her face with the heel of her palms, a little hiccup bubbling up from her throat. "Oh, now I'm such a mess!" she muttered absentmindedly, giving Harry a small smile. "So stupid."

"I really am sorry, you know, about all this. I didn't mean…" He trailed off miserably, staring down at his knees.

"I overreacted, I guess. Completely idiotic. I feel like a blubbering fool now."

"You shouldn't. I've been a right bastard to you guys and you have every right to be… upset with me.. I just haven't been paying attention." Harry sighed.

"I guess you haven't." Hermione chewed on her lip for a moment, fiddling with the edge of her robes. "Is - whatever it is - the reason you lied about Occlumency with Snape?"

Harry nodded, still avoiding her gaze.

"Well, I guess there's nothing left to talk about then." They both stood shakily and Hermione yawned into her hand, flushed and exhausted.

"I thought I told you not to wait up for me." said Harry quietly. Hermione gave him a look that said quite clearly that she was not amused in the slightest. "See you in the morning, I guess."

"Good night, Harry."

Both teenagers traipsed slowly up the stairs leading to their respective dormitories without another word, one filled with guilt, the other with worry. Neither would be sleeping soundly that night.

* * *

"C'mon mate, you've got to get up." Harry groaned and rolled over, mumbling incoherently into his pillow.

Icy water suddenly poured over his unruly head and neck, soaking into his pillow and shocking him out of his morning stupor.

"GAH!" Harry shot up like a bullet, promptly got himself tangled in the bed sheets in an effort to escape the freezing deluge, and fell spectacularly to the floor, shaking his wet head like a dog in his disorientation. He heard laughter from the other Gryffindor boys in the room and flushed in embarrassment and irritation.

"What the hell was that for?" he demanded hotly, glaring up at the blurry, red-headed blob standing over him.

"Well… you weren't waking up." Ron gasped through a bought of giggles. "So… I thought I'd… just…" Harry rolled his eyes and reached towards the end table beside his bed, hand groping around for his glasses and wand.

"Glad you find it so funny. You think it'll still be funny when I'm through hexing you into tomorrow?" he threatened, pushing himself to his feet.

"You won't have time. Classes start in fifteen minutes!"

Harry swore and threw open his trunk, quickly rifling through it in search of a clean set of robes.

"I brought you some breakfast, mate. Thought you might be hungry." said Ron, offering him a rather large blueberry muffin. Harry accepted it and bit into the bread blindly, while struggling to pull up his trousers one-handedly, hopping a little in his haste.

Ron stifled another chuckle and turned towards the door, calling a short, "See you in Flitwick's, mate!" over his shoulder before hurrying out onto the stairs leading down to the common room.

"Bloody git," Harry muttered under his breath. He wasn't really angry with Ron, he knew, just good-naturedly irritated with him. It actually felt good to bicker with his friend like this, to forget about his confrontations with Snape and the argument with Hermione the previous night. It felt _normal, _and somehow much more real than the entire past week.

Apparently Ron had already been asleep when Snape had stormed in the other night, otherwise Harry was sure he would have confronted him the moment he woke up. He fervently hoped that Hermione wouldn't tell him before he got the chance to do it himself.

Of course, if he was being honest with himself, he simply wished that Ron never had to find out. Unlike Hermione, Ron was much more likely to hold a grudge over something like this. Harry knew that he would deserve it if he did, but he hated to think of how much potential damage could be dealt to their friendship. And it would only make it worse that he couldn't even _tell _Ron why he had done it in the first place, why he had lied and snuck around.

He should have known that he wouldn't get away with it. He _had _known that he wouldn't, right from the beginning, but he had just kept on going with it in the hope that it would turn out all right in the end. Harry snorted, _so much for that._

There was nothing to do but face the consequences when they came and savor the time before they did.

* * *

Ten minutes later, he was sprinting down the corridor, dodging around the last few stragglers, nursing the growing stitch in his side. A few angry shouts followed him, but he ignored them and continued on, not caring in the slightest.

He gave a gusty sigh of relief when he reached the Charms classroom door, pulling it open and slipping inside just as the final bell rang. Professor Flitwick raised his eyebrows but said nothing as Harry quickly sought out Ron and Hermione's table, panting and clutching his side.

"Nice," Ron said, snickering as soon as Harry sat down and dropped his book bag beside his chair. Hermione gave him a small smile from Ron's other side before looking back to the front of the classroom, awaiting instructions.

Harry tried valiantly to allow himself to relax throughout the general chaos that was standard for a Charms lesson, but his looming meeting with Professor Snape hung over him like a storm cloud, sapping his energy and ruining his mood.

Despite this, Harry put on an almost natural looking smile and played along, pretending that it was just another day. He knew that he was only hurting Ron and Hermione by rejecting and distancing himself from them, but it remained difficult to maintain a level of civility around them all the same.

By lunchtime, Harry realized that Hermione didn't plan on telling Ron about the disastrous previous night. As much as Harry knew that he should talk to Ron and give him the truth, he simply _couldn't _face it, not today at least. Perhaps if he was alive in the morning…

Harry cursed himself for his weakness throughout the day, going over and over the possible reactions he would receive when he finally did come clean. It would be a _good _thing, wouldn't it? If Ron decided to give him grief about it, creating more distance between them? Wouldn't it? All week, he had only tried to be alone, it was what he _wanted. _But now, he just wasn't completely sure.

He tried to be normal for them that day, he tried so damn hard that he felt like his face might split open from all the smiling, and on the outside that was all that showed. That he was trying to play nice with his friends instead of snapping at them every moment. But that didn't change the fact that at the end of the day, he would have to follow Snape down to the dungeons alone and deal with whatever the man threw at him. He hoped to God that nothing happened.

The other teachers seemed to be proud of him for putting forth a little effort in his classes and actually learning the spells. McGonagall even gave him something close to a smile when he successfully transformed his turtle into a fluffy pillow ten minutes before class got out. Despite himself, Harry actually felt a little pleased by the praise, his stomach fluttering with the first real happiness he'd felt since before that night.

He knew it wouldn't last, but it was a nice feeling all the same.

Before he knew it, he found himself sitting in the Great Hall beside his two friends, picking disinterestedly at the treacle tart on his plate. Somehow, he just didn't feel all that hungry.

A large shadow fell over him and he vaguely noticed the glare Ron was shooting over his shoulder, Hermione's anxious eyes on him.

"Come along, Mr. Potter." It was inevitable, he knew, but at that moment he wanted nothing more than to stay right where he was and prevent the disaster of an Occlumency lesson before it could happen.

"What for?" Ron demanded, even as Harry stood and stepped over the bench into the aisle beside the Potions Master.

"Remedial Potions." Snape sneered. Ron looked downright confused now, glancing from Harry to Snape and back again.

"But -"

Snape had already started out of the Great Hall, obviously expecting Harry to follow him. With a sigh of resignation, Harry hurried to keep up with the Professor, feeling as if he was walking to his own execution, as if he was doing this willingly. In a way, he was.

"Keep up, Mr. Potter." Snape barked.

_Well, if you didn't have to walk so bloody fast,_ Harry thought angrily, silently increasing his pace to match that of Professor Snape's. He suddenly felt the swelling fury of last night seeping into him, biting at his belly and telling him to just pull out his wand and kill the man.

He didn't though, for reasons he didn't understand himself. He didn't turn back, he didn't slow down, he didn't attack, and there was really no excuse for it.

_Why'd you have to do this to me? Why don't you even __**remember**__ it?_

The damp dungeon air filled his nose, achingly familiar and uncomfortable. He shivered as goose bumps erupted on his flesh, the chilling air seeming to seep through into his bones.

_Nothing's going to happen, it'll be okay, nothing's going to happen…_

Snape came to a halt in front of the door that led into his office, turned and gestured for Harry to go through first, a stony sneer planted on his face. _Ladies first, _Harry thought bitterly. He felt sure he was going to be sick.

"So glad you decided to grace me with your presence this time, Potter."

The door snapped shut, the sound echoing throughout the room, final and absolute. There was no running away from this, not now, not ever.

He should've run while he'd had the chance.

* * *

A/N: Bad everwyld, bad, bad, bad! Evil cliffhanger time, worse than all the other chapters combined.

Review, my dears, if you want to see what happens next. (Don't kill me!)

See you in two weeks. ;D


	6. A Little Gratitude

A/N: Woot woot! I told ya I'd update early. I couldn't leave you guys hanging for too long of course so I worked double time. ^_^

Plus, this one's even a bit longer than all the other chapters.

I put in this symbol IOIOI for anyone who's a little squeamish. Just skip ahead until you see it again and you should be okay.

Because I wrote this a little faster, I might have done a bit of a shoddy editing job so please feel free to point out any grammatical errors and the like.

M'kay, here we go!

Disclaimer: Again, I own nothing. Am not making any profit from this story.

_**

* * *

**_

_**Chapter 6: A Little Gratitude**_

Harry could feel Snape's presence behind him, making no sound but for the quiet breaths that whistled in and out of his overly large nose, just standing there, contemplating Harry's stiff form.

"So…" There was a pause. It seemed as if Snape was waiting for Harry to say something. Harry closed his eyes and slowly unclenched his tight fists, attempted to ease his hunched shoulders, said nothing. He could feel Snape glaring daggers into the back of his head.

"Nothing at all to say for yourself then, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked him condescendingly, robes swishing as he moved around to face him. "Stubborn as ever, I see."

Harry looked up into the cold, unrelenting black eyes. "What do you want me to say?" he deadpanned. He no longer had the energy to be openly defiant to this man and he knew that he sounded more defeated and tired than anything else, but there wasn't exactly anything he could do to change it.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Of course you wouldn't think to show a little gratitude after last night, would you Potter?"

"_Gratitude - ?" _Harry started incredulously, blood boiling. What on _earth_ did he have to thank _Snape_ for?

"Yes, you little ingrate!" Snape hissed furiously, "Did you ever pause to consider what would have happened if I had decided to report you for being out of bed so late at night? You would have gotten a number of detentions _at the least!_ Not to mention the fact that if I hadn't been the one to find you, someone else, namely the High Inquisitor, might have discovered you. And you can be sure that she would have been calling for your expulsion the moment she did! Honestly Potter, do you ever pause to _think _before you act?" Snape paused, lips twisted in a snarl as he glared down at the boy, apparently beyond words.

Harry bit his lip. It really had been a stupid, _stupid _move on his part. "Look, I'm sorry, okay?"

But Snape seemed not to have heard him. "And then, of course, the Headmaster wouldn't have been very pleased with you, now would he? Do you think that I've been taking the time out of my schedule for you, spending hours trying to teach you such a subtle art merely for my own entertainment, boy? Do you think the protection of your mind from the Dark Lord's penetration and influence so unimportant?"

Harry ducked his head, glowering at his dirty sneakers. How the _bloody hell _was Snape managing to make him feel guilty about this? It wasn't as if the man had given him much of a choice in the matter.

"I wasn't ditching on purpose or because I thought it wasn't important or anything!" he began hotly, "I just forgot, okay? I forgot that I had Occlumency last night and I fell asleep. Besides, I would have made it back to Gryffindor Tower just fine if you hadn't been there looking for me."

"And you knew this _before _you set out on your little walk, did you?" Snape scoffed.

"No, but -"

"And yet you _still _decided to _-"_

"I GET IT!" Harry shouted, "I screwed up, alright? I should have remembered that I had lessons with you, I shouldn't have left the tower so close to curfew, I shouldn't have let myself fall asleep like that! I _know _that. What the hell more do you want to hear?"

There were several prolonged seconds of ringing silence, and then -

"I suggest you adjust your tone, Mr. Potter. I am your professor and you will speak to me with respect!"

Harry was positively fuming. Snape was disgusting, ugly, old and bitter. He had managed to turn Harry's life into a living hell in the space of, at most, a single hour, one week and a day ago, in this very room. Respect? "The hell I will!"

"You insolent little brat!"

Snape raised his wand and Harry sucked in a sharp breath.

"_Legilimens!" _snarled the furious potions master, and a moment later, Harry found himself watching as his most precious memories streamed by, a flickering film behind his eyes.

_He was flying, reaching out for the snitch when a sense of dread overwhelmed him. People were screaming and three tall dementors stood below, watching him._

_He was six years old, small and fearful as his uncle tossed him roughly into the cupboard once again. It was so dark inside, but he didn't mind it much anymore._

_Aunt Marge was hovering over the table, her great body swelled up like a balloon as all the buttons popped off her tweed jacket._

It stopped and he was left panting on the dungeon floor, a place he had become quite familiar with in the past weeks. Dusting himself off quickly, Harry stood facing his hated teacher, glaring defiantly back into Snape's cool gaze.

"You could have at least warned me!" he said angrily.

"Do you think the Dark Lord will give warning, allow you a chance to prepare yourself before he attacks? No Potter, you must be ready at all times." Snape sneered, wand lowered slightly.

"Don't I have to learn how to actually _do _it first?" said Harry snidely.

"What do you think I've been doing these last several weeks, Potter? Playing?" Snape demanded, eyes narrowed.

"You haven't taught me anything! I don't have a clue what the hell I'm supposed to be _doing!"_

"Then figure it out! _Legilimens!"_

Again, Snape rifled through the contents of his mind, casting the dull, more generic ones aside in search of something more painful or embarrassing. Harry could feel what Snape was doing even as he watched the rush of images flash by. Whatever Dumbledore wanted to believe, Snape was not doing this to help him in any way.

_Then he was in the dungeons again, the situation almost exactly the same as the present except _Harry_ was the one going through _Snape's_ mind. He knew what was coming and he knew that Snape couldn't be allowed to view this particularly memory, but he felt powerless to stop it under the onslaught of Snape's attack._

_Snape advanced on him, struck him, pinned him against the wall._

_Harry heard himself speak and he cringed out how pathetic and weak he sounded. "Sir, I -" Cut off before he could finish the hesitant protest._

_No, no, no, no! 'Get out now, you bastard!' In his mind, he was screaming it, but the memory continued. Harry didn't want to see._

_Pinned against the wall, hands above his head, not good not good not good!_

'_Stop! Get the hell out of my mind! Professor, please!'_

_Trousers down and then it hurt so badly. He heard himself screaming his agony, his mortification… it was as if it was happening all over again. Snape couldn't see, couldn't see._

_But Harry could feel him there, watching. He could even sense some of the emotions coming off of the man: Shock, incredulity, and then suddenly he was furious again._

Harry was lying on the ground, head aching horribly, shaking all over. Not even when he had gone to Dumbledore, begging for a stop to the Occlumency lessons had this possibility occurred to him. He felt like an absolute idiot now, what had he been thinking coming down here? He should have known.

"Potter."

He closed his eyes. He didn't want to hear anything Snape had to say.

"How dare… absolutely preposterous… How did you do it, Potter?"

Harry's eyes flew open and he sat up warily, caught off guard. "How did I do what?" he snapped aggressively.

"How did you plant that false memory? And… why on _earth…?"_

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't play stupid Potter. You know as well as I do that _that _particular event never happened." said Snape impatiently. "And what the hell was the purpose of that little display?"

"I didn't plant it there -"

"_**Then explain to me how that memory got inside your head, boy!" **_Snape bellowed, eyes wide with a mad rage.

Any other explanation but the truth would incriminate him in one way or another. _What the hell, _he thought tiredly, _Snape bloody well deserved it_. "The same way all memories do, _Professor_."

"DON'T LIE TO ME, POTTER!"

Harry looked Snape straight in the eye and said quite calmly, "I'm not lying, Professor. You… did _that _at the end of last week's lesson. It's why -"

"Shut up!"

Harry flinched, a reaction not missed by the potions master.

"That never happened, Potter." Snape said, slightly more sedately. "You must know this."

"You had my wand in your pocket and you didn't remember how it got there."

Harry knew that he should not be able to stay so calm, but it was as if Snape's own confusion and rage had anchored him. He should be the one that was angry at Snape, cursing him, screaming at him, accusing him… but he felt as if he was floating above it all. They were discussing whether or not this man had raped him… and he was the one least affected by it. His head was seriously screwed up.

Snape was staring at him, brow furrowed, mouth slightly slack.

"There is another explanation."

Harry snapped. So much for calm and detached. "You may not remember, but I _bloody __**LIVED**_ IT! You - you -"

A huge weight seemed to slam into his shoulders and _everything _crashed down on him all at once. He knees shook and folded beneath him. He was on the floor, unable to speak, scream, or cry, just staring at the cracked stone that made up the dungeon floor. Distantly, Harry heard Snape leave the room and, a minute later, come back. He saw Snape's legs, kneeling right in front of him. His vision blurred and he was shaking uncontrollably.

He heard Snape mumbling something angrily under his breath and then a cool glass of water was thrust roughly into one of his trembling hands. Gingerly, he sipped at it, trying not to splash too much over the rim and onto his robes. No idea why he bothered; it was a lost cause regardless.

"Calm down, Potter." Snape placed a hand tenderly on his shoulder, choosing to ignore the violent shudder that ripped through Harry's body at the touch.

"I have to get out of here!" Harry gasped. The cup the water had been in shattered as it hit the floor, and Harry was on his feet in an instant reaching for the door.

"Potter," Harry paused, hand on the handle. "The Headmaster should know."

* * *

He was flying down the corridor, so similar to that night, but this time he knew where he was going: Professor Dumbledore's office. He didn't care how late it was, he didn't care that Dumbledore would, more likely than not, be disinclined to believe him; He didn't care that he probably looked a right mess and he didn't care that he might be seen as weak. None of it mattered.

Over the past week, the memory had faded. It was always there, ever present and looming, but it had seemed less real somehow. Like a terrible nightmare that had been horrible while it lasted, but had passed. He hadn't even begun healing from it, but he had hoped that with time he would be able to. Not anymore. Each sensation was vivid and at the forefront of his mind, each and every detail plastered on the front of his skull, wide open for anyone to see. He just couldn't _do _this anymore. He needed help.

He should have told Hermione last night, a week ago. Then he wouldn't have had to deal with this, Snape wouldn't have seen, and he wouldn't have had to relive it when Snape had broken into his mind.

His vision was blurring, and he could barely see where he was going, but he refused to give in and allow himself to cry. He blinked to rid himself of the gathering tears, but that only seemed to make it worse. The world was a watercolor swirl of dark paint, bleeding together, black on grey on brown on green…

He stumbled and tripped, falling hard on the cold stone floor. There was no one around, he was completely alone, but that could change. What if a Slytherin came out and found him here like this.

Resolutely pushing the thought away, he placed his palms flat against the ground and scrambled to push himself to his feet. He was blind as a bat, basically defenseless, and he

Couldn't

Get

Up.

A little hysterical, Harry tried again, but his arms wobbled the moment he put any weight on them and he collapsed again and again, becoming more frustrated with each failed attempt.

A tingling feeling was spreading throughout his limbs and it felt as if hundred pound weights had been tied to his body, holding him down.

His eyes were now clear of tears as determination had forced them away, but he still couldn't see, the blurred dungeons swaying around him. No! What was happening to him? This couldn't be happing!

Exhausted, panting heavily through his open mouth, Harry lay there, unable to move. Several minutes later, a large shadow fell over him. Garbled words he couldn't hear.

A boot clad foot nudged his side and turned him over, none to gently, onto his back. More words were spoken. A pair of arms were beneath him, one at his knees, the other in the middle of his back, lifting him up, up, up, his head lolling back unsupported.

A loud noise echoed around him and the light changed, became a little stronger here. The same noise again.

Something smooth was being poured down his throat and he coughed and spluttered. A moment later, everything came back into focus.

He was laying on a bed in a large room he recognized as Snape's quarters. The man himself was standing beside him, setting an empty glass vial on the rickety end table to Harry's left with a soft clink. Despite being able to hear and see again, Harry found that he still couldn't move or speak, muscles throughout his body unresponsive and heavy.

He wanted to jump up and curse Snape right then and there, demand to know what Snape thought he was doing, hit him, kill him, watch him writhe under the Cruciatus Curse. Immobilized, he could do nothing but stare up at him, the accusation clear in his burning green eyes.

"Your father deserved what he got." said Snape, calmly moving to sit on top of Harry, straddling his hips. Harry's breaths were coming in short gasps as he watched him. "And as for your mother…"

Rough hands carefully opened his robes, pushing them off his shoulders, pulling the limp arms through so that Harry was laying on top of them, splayed out beneath him and rumpled in an uncomfortable bulge in the middle of his back.

"She had a choice, didn't she." It wasn't a question, merely a statement of fact, meaning that she could have chosen Snape over James, that she might not have died.

"And where does that leave _you_, I wonder?"

Nimble fingers plucked at the buttons on his shirt, loosened his gold and red tie and slipped it over his head.

Harry's eyes were wide as saucers, his chest heaving, but still unable to move an inch. Snape popped open the fly of his jeans and pulled the zipper down in one quick, fluid movement. Harry managed a small whimper.

"Quiet, Potter!" snapped Snape in that same tone of voice he used in the Potions classroom everyday, even as he was tugging Harry's baggy jeans down his thin legs, using one hand while the other lifted Harry's hips up off the bed to make the task easier.

Harry didn't want to be 'quiet', what he wanted was to tear Snape's skinny throat out! He willed his body to move, to at least twitch or do something, but it was useless. It was as if the nerve endings connecting Harry's body to his brain had been snipped, leaving him floating around inside his own head watching as Snape manipulated his body, casually undressing him.

This was different from last time, he knew, and at the same time it wasn't. Snape wasn't in a blind rage, hitting him, screaming at him; there was no violence, just a calculated meticulousness as Snape whipped Harry's trousers down over his ankles and let them fall to the floor behind him with a near silent swish, as he spread the flaps of Harry's white shirt and slowly pulled it off, revealing his pale chest.

But the way in which it was done didn't really matter in the end. Snape was about to molest him, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Same as last time.

IOIOI

Harry's eyes watered threateningly when Snape finally moved to his boxers, the last bit of protection he had. They too were pulled down and discarded somewhere at the foot of the bed, so that Harry was lying completely naked beneath Professor Snape, who was now hovering over him, hands placed on either side of Harry's head.

Snape looked sharply into his eyes and Harry clamped his shut, the only defense he had left. This was just too much. It wasn't supposed to happen again, he had been on his way to see Dumbledore to put a stop to it, he should've gone faster. But he hadn't, and here he was.

Harry shivered as Snape's calloused fingers brushed against his limp member and pulled it up into his hand, rubbing up and down the shaft. Snape's hands were too rough, too dry, tugging in a way that quickly turned painful. The man realized this, spat into his palm, and started again.

It should not have felt as good as it did. Snape was a greasy, dirty old man but that didn't seem to matter to Harry's traitorous body, the heat quickly pooling beneath his belly. He was already half hard when Snape stopped minutes later and adjusted his position.

Hands gripped his knobbly knees and pushed his legs apart allowing Snape to move in between them, hands quickly undoing his own robes and trousers. Harry looked straight up at the ceiling, not wanting to see it, not again, but he sure as hell _felt _it.

_Too big, _he thought desperately, _it was too __**fucking **__big and he didn't __**want **__it there! _

He grit his teeth, anticipating the pain and he sure as hell wasn't disappointed. It burned, it ached, a raw agony that absolutely _had _to stop because he just couldn't _take_ it, and he was stretching around it, tearing, and he could feel the warm gush of blood already. Snape slipped past the tight ring of muscles and stopped, panting heavily above him.

"Just relax." Snape spat. Not relaxing at all, Harry mused, and - Merlin - he was moving again, pushing in farther and farther, making the pain worse. Harry's eyes were clenched tightly shut and he instinctively tried to push the intrusion out, wincing when that only made it worse.

Snape grunted and forced himself all the way in, pausing another minute to rest, breathing deeply through his nose. Harry could feel each breath rush out and brush his face, tickling his nose. Then Snape's lips were on his, crashing down, biting painfully hard and Snape's tongue greedily forced Harry's own mouth open and darted inside, sweeping over his teeth and tongue. After everything that had happened and _was still happening_, Harry was completely shocked, frozen in mind and body.

One of Snape's hands wandered down and tugged again at Harry's penis, and this time it sent an electric shock straight up his spine and into his brain. The combination of overwhelming sensations was just too much and Harry responded to the fierce touch, ashamed and at the same time eternally grateful for the distraction.

Then one of Snape's thrusts hit something inside him that sent him reeling, eyes rolling around in his head, a sensation that was pure ecstasy. Before he could recover, Snape positively slammed into that same spot again with so much more force and lights flashed before his eyes, again and again.

He could feel it building and his mouth was wide open, gasping in sharp breaths, not one coherent thought left in his dazed mind. Close… so close… almost…

Hot, sticky liquid flooded inside him a moment before he came, spurting white semen all over his stomach and Snape's hand, wishing that he could scream or moan or something because it was too much to contain.

IOIOI

Distantly he heard Snape let out a gusty sigh and felt the man's weight collapse on top of him.

A minute later, when Snape had caught his breath, he rolled off of Harry's still limp body and lay beside him on the large and delectably soft bed.

Harry's eyes drifted closed and an intense calm stole over him, and he was just so _tired_, and he didn't want to think anymore. He fell asleep in his least favorite teacher's bedchamber, naked and filthy, lips red and swollen, blood soaking into the sheets around him and drying on the insides of his thighs. It was just too much.

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A/N: Sooo, whadjya think?

Poor Harry boy, right? Yeah, I still can't believe I write this stuff.

Did any of you guys get what happened? Snape put one of his potions in the water he gave to Harry after their little 'talk'.

I wonder if anyone will be able to guess what happens next. It seems like a logical conclusion to draw to me, but I dunno.

See ya next time! Leave reviews! Nice ones are even better XD


	7. A Waking Nightmare

_**A/N: **_Okay, first off, I am really sorry about the lateness of this chapter. I have no idea what happened. I got distracted, writer's block, and then the time just flew by. I never said I was consistent with my writing but I DO promise to finish anything I start. Whether the wait is one month or six, I will come back to it, so don't worry about that. Not that the next wait is gonna be six months long or anything, just know that I'm not one to abandon my stories.

I've had over 6000 hits for this story and, at this point, 45 reviews. I know it's not very much considering the sheer size of this fandom, but I'm glad to know that I'm not sending my work out into empty space. I want to thank you all for keeping with me throughout this ridiculously long wait and my horribly sloooow writing. There's only a few chapters left, but I'm not finished yet. The mystery of Snape's selective memory loss will soon be revealed, and someone is in for quite a shock.

Hoping you're all enjoying the story so far, I now present the seventh chapter.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and company all belong to JK Rowling, the wonderful author who inspired us all.

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****Chapter 7: A Waking Nightmare**_

Harry awoke feeling absolutely wretched.

His entire body ached terribly and the crusted blood on his legs clung to the skin and the bed sheets beneath him, pulling uncomfortably whenever he tried to move and itching something fierce. His behind was also quite sore, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been that first night, just serving as a little reminder for him - as if he really needed another.

Oh yes, Harry knew exactly where he was and what had happened. What exactly he intended to _do _about it however managed to escape him. And so there he lay, unmoving, eyes closed, trying to ignore the warm presence of the man, of the monster, blissfully asleep and unaware beside him.

Tears pricked at his closed eyes and his entire body shuddered in revulsion despite his attempts to hold still. His lips trembled and the wrenching sobs pushed against his throat, trying to make themselves known. Harry shoved right back and swallowed them down, unwilling to give voice to the wild thing clawing and tearing at his insides because the moment it escaped, everything would just become that much more real and Snape would probably wake up and then Harry would have to _deal _with it all.

This right here, staying completely still and just pretending everything away, it was much better. He kept his eyes closed because while they weren't open, he didn't have to _see_ the dungeon walls and the flickering lamps of Snape's quarters. While they weren't open, there was still the possibility that he was laying in his own bed, safe in Gryffindor Tower. He refused to move his body because while he remained still, he didn't have to _feel_ the blood between his legs and the silky sheets moving along his skin, so much different from those of his own bed. There wasn't anyone in this room over the age of sixteen, just his friends and his classmates, people he trusted - and there certainly wasn't a thirty-something, disgusting old man laying beside him in this bed, taking slow deep breaths like a sleeping dragon. No, of course not.

Eyes squeezed tightly shut, Harry bit down hard on his bottom lip until he tasted the coppery tang of blood.

The pain that was all over his body, just the result of another rough Quidditch practice, nothing more. He would feel better later once he'd worked some of the soreness out of his stiff muscles and had had something decent to eat in the Great Hall during breakfast. This was nothing he couldn't handle. Right. That's why he felt like screaming himself hoarse, why he felt like dirty little insects were crawling under his skin, biting and chewing their way to the bone, why he was still laying here even though he _knew _that he was still in the boys' dormitory in Gryffindor Tower.

The illusion shattered as somebody_ (Ron, it was just Ron playing another joke)_ shouted suddenly in his ear and then Harry was tumbling in a tangle of silky sheets and blankets onto the cold stone floor of the dungeons. His eyes finally flew open as he landed with a quiet "Oof!" on his arse, caught completely off guard.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Potter?"

He knew that voice. He also knew that it was most definitely not the voice of a fifteen-year-old teenage boy, not Ron's voice or Dean's or Neville's or Seamus's.

Harry didn't answer, staring at his silk-covered knobbly knees, gently tugging the sheets tighter around himself, eyes blank and glassy. He heard the creaking of the bedsprings as Snape pushed himself up and the _pit-pat _of bare feet crossing the icy floor.

"Potter!"

Fingers snapped in front of Harry's face, startling him so that, in reflex, he looked up at the man now kneeling beside him. He grit his teeth and tore his gaze away, examining the swirling pattern in the wood of the nearest bedside table, hands fisted in the sheets he held around himself, a white knuckled grip on the only scrap of protection he had left.

"Potter, what the hell's the matter with you?" Snape growled impatiently, hands darting out to seize Harry's shoulders in a rough, angry grip. "Look at me, you insolent child!"

Harry flinched visibly at the command and the unwanted contact, tearing himself away from Snape's bloodstained hands, but dragged his eyes back up to the Professor's pale face as he was told, surprised and _hurt _at what he saw there.

Snape was staring at his own crimson covered hands in horror, jaw slack, eyebrows furrowed, piercing black eyes wide, confusion and shock playing about his features as if he didn't even know… as if he didn't even _remember._

The man shook himself and turned back to Harry, shoving the mystery to the back of his mind for the moment. "What -what are you doing _in_ _my_ _chambers_ - in my _bed, _Potter? And this… whose blood…?_What the __**hell**__ have you done this time, boy?_"

Harry was shaking like a leaf, his face drained of color, whether in fury or in outright anguish, even he didn't know. _What the hell was this? What was going on?_

"I asked you a question! Answer me!"

But Harry remained silent, gazing unseeingly into his Professor's haunted eyes. Snape looked away, unnerved and flustered, something Harry had never seen on this particular man's face before.

"For God's sake, put some clothes on, Potter." he muttered, pushing himself to his feet and glancing around for the boy's missing robes. They lay in disarray in rumpled heaps around the bed, shoes and all. Snape summoned them with an almost lazy flick of his wand and tossed them all down at Potter's feet before turning away and exiting through the door that led to his Potions lab, allowing the boy a bit of privacy.

Harry looked up as the door slammed closed and cast his gaze around the room, realizing that Professor Snape had actually left him alone.

Noticing the pile at his feet, Harry eyed the door distrustfully before dropping the sheets and quickly pulling on his boxers, white shirt, and trousers. Decent once more, still trembling and nervous, Harry tugged his arms through the sleeves of his robes and tripped into his socks and shoes. He checked various pockets in search of his wand and located it almost immediately, drawing it out and feeling the slender, comforting wood between his fingers once more.

He didn't give a damn if Snape really had forgotten what he had done or not, this… _this_ would never happen to him again. If he could get past Snape and find Professor Dumbledore, he knew he would be safe. Snape would be sent to Azkaban and he would never have to see his Potions Master's ugly face again. What Snape had done to him… it was horrible, unforgivable, sick, disgusting, wrong…

…_And yet you enjoyed it, didn't you? It felt good, didn't it?_

No, no, he didn't. He had hated every second of it.

But that was a lie, and he knew it. How else could he…could he…

Disgusted with himself, Harry shook his head as if to clear it and blinked away the gathering tears. He couldn't even _say_ it. If he couldn't even say it inside his own head, to himself with no one around, how could he think he'd be able to tell _someone else?_

Harry shook his head irritably to rid himself of the poisonous thought and raised his eyes up to the door, determination and an old fire lighting in his eyes. It didn't even matter now. All he had to do was get to Dumbledore, Ron, Hermione, anyone. He had to get out of here. He'd figure out the rest of it later, once he was away from Snape and his damnable, nightmare of a bedroom.

First things first.

"_Alohamora," _he whispered, wand lifted and pointed at the exit. There was no quiet _click_ as he had expected to hear when the locking mechanism magically triggered. Had it not worked properly? Did Snape have this door protected from such a simple charm?

Tentatively, cautiously, Harry approached the door and placed his hand on the rusted handle, pressing his ear against the chilled wood. He heard nothing from the other side, but Snape had definitely gone through this door and could be waiting for him on the other side. On the other hand, the only other door he could see led into a bathroom, and he didn't exactly fancy waiting around or hiding until Snape came in and found _him._ At least this way he had the chance that he wouldn't be discovered.

Of course, none of this would matter if Snape had actually blocked up the door.

Quickly, in case he lost his nerve, Harry tugged on the latch, perhaps a little harder than was necessary - and stood stunned for several seconds as the door easily glided open, revealing the Professor's private potions lab. Several cauldrons bubbled and hissed over their large burners, occasionally sending off sparks or bursts of colored steam; enchanted candles drifted about the room, the flickering flames glowing a sickly green and casting a dim light that created more shadows than illumination; shelves lined the walls, stacked high with books and vials filled to the brim with different potions ingredients.

Professor Snape, however, was strangely absent.

Perhaps he had just… left. Had other business to attend to. Yeah, that must be it. So now, all he had to do was -

_Bang!_

Harry jumped like a frightened cat as a small door, what he had previously assumed to be a closet, burst open and slammed back against the wall and Professor Snape strode through the opening, examining a clear glass vial distractedly as he walked.

Startled, Harry stood perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe as he watched the Professor pass him by without a second glass and set the little bottle down on a grime covered work table.

"Explain yourself." he commanded quietly, his voice soft and dangerous, still not looking in Harry's direction.

Harry decided it would be safest to play dumb, at least for now. "Sir?" he asked innocently, silently backing away in unease. Snape scoffed and finally turned to face him.

"Let's not play games, Mr. Potter. What, pray tell, were you doing in my private chambers?"

"I… I don't know, Profess-"

Snape interrupted with a roll of his eyes. "A likely story. Tell me Potter, what are you and your little friends up to this time?"

Harry blinked. "You - you think that this was some sort of, what, a-a prank?"

Snape's eyes were narrowed to dark slits and his mouth was set in a firm line. "Are you suggesting that it was something _else_, Mr. Potter?" Harry flinched and looked down at his toes, a horrible flush coloring his cheeks. God, he hoped Snape didn't notice.

"No, no. I just…" he trailed off weakly, scuffing his trainers on the stone floor. He didn't know what to say. _Because telling the truth had worked so well the last time, _he thought bitterly.

"I see." came the sardonic reply. It was obvious that he didn't.

Harry swallowed nervously and looked up, keeping his eyes fixed on some point above Snape's right shoulder. "Can I go now?" he asked quietly.

Snape scrutinized for a moment, arms crossing languidly over his chest.

"No."

Harry wanted to _scream. _He quickly scrambled for an excuse, or at least _something_ believable.

"Ron and Hermione -"

" - Will have to wait. I want answers, Potter, and I want them _now._" Snape's voice lowered dangerously. "Boy, do you honestly think me such a fool? Not a single word you have spoken to me since you walked through that door has been truth."

Harry returned his gaze to the floor and said nothing. What was he supposed to _do_ in a situation like this. The simple absurdity of it was almost laughable. Almost.

"Speak, idiot boy!" Snape barked suddenly, having run out of patience. Harry startled and jumped back, only to meet the solid wall.

"I…" he licked his parched lips, perhaps imagining that he could still _taste _the man's lingering kiss on the still slightly swollen flesh. "I-I don't -"

Snape raised a sardonic eyebrow. "Perhaps I should inform the Headmaster of the situation, seeing as you are so _obviously_ too distressed to bother with explaining yourself." He sneered mockingly, but something strange flashed in his eyes, so quickly gone again that Harry couldn't be sure exactly what it was, or if he had even seen anything at all.

It took another minute for the actual words to sink in. _Dumbledore… _yes he would very much like to speak with Headmaster.

"I - yes, that-that would be… yes."

Snape watched him carefully for another moment, eyes apparently searching for something, then turned away and approached the dark fireplace. He threw a handful of floo powder into the grate and stepped back as the flames suddenly jumped to life, a brilliant green.

"Go on, then." Snape sneered motioning him towards the flames.

Harry cautiously approached, eyes watching Snape the entire time until he backed into the fire, the warmth tickling wherever it came into contact with his exposed skin. He took a quick breath and clearly said, "Dumbledore's office, Hogwarts."

There was a whoosh as he was suddenly whisked away into the whirlwind that was floo travel, leaving Snape and his dreary potions lab behind him.

The howling that had filled his ears stopped as he stumbled out of the fire and onto a plush carpet, closing his eyes for a moment to rid himself of the dizzying sensation. He heard a few exclamations of surprise upon landing and opened his eyes to see Professor McGonagall, Professor Dumbledore, and Professor Umbridge all staring back at him. Harry froze, caught off guard by the woman's presence.

With everything that had happened over the past week, Harry had almost forgotten the High Inquisitor was there, all of his classes blending together in his previous zombie-like state. Now she looked down at him where he stood, a slow malicious grin stretching her wide mouth.

"Ah, Mr. Potter." she simpered, watery eyes glimmering in the now yellow firelight. "What a surprise."

Dumbledore stood from behind his desk, blue eyes piercing and watching him with concern. "Harry, my boy, what -"

He was interrupted as the fire once again flared to life and turned green before spitting out a distinctly un-frazzled Professor Snape. The man brushed a bit of soot from his robes and faced the room, eyes sweeping over the inhabitants until at last they came to rest on Harry, narrowing slightly as they did so.

"Headmaster Dumbledore," he began smoothly, "I apologize for the intrusion. If this is a bad time -"

"No, not at all, my boy. Actually, Professor Umbridge here was just about to leave."

Umbridge glowered at him, as if she felt she was missing out on something, but turned to leave with a little huff, pausing at the door.

"Oh and, Headmaster, I wanted to congratulate you." she said sweetly, her beady eyes focused on Harry as she spoke, "Whatever methods you are using, please do continue. It has certainly been an improvement."

Professor McGonagall glared at her back as the door shut behind her, nostrils flaring.

"Professor Snape, Mr. Potter." Dumbledore inclined his head to each of them in greeting. "Perhaps you could sit down and we can discuss whatever it is you came here to discuss."

Harry took one of the chairs placed before the Headmaster's desk at the same time as Snape declined, standing stiffly near one of the walls.

"I discovered Mr. Potter in my -" a barely noticeable pause "- lab earlier this morning and, when questioned, he refused to give me any sort of reasonable answer. When I found him, he was quite… shaken."

Harry could feel their eyes burning into his skull, but stared resolutely at his hands, twisting nervously in his lap.

"Well, Mr. Potter. If you would enlighten us…" Dumbledore prompted, waiting.

Harry opened his mouth and took a shaky breath. This was his chance. He could tell them everything, right here, right now, and end it all. He could do this, he _had _to do this.

The words wouldn't come out, lodging in his throat. He made a small choking noise at the almost physical sensation and, to his horror, felt a hot prickling at the corners of his eyes.

_Just say it! Come on, say it! Tell them!_

But he couldn't. How could he tell them, the teachers he had known since he was eleven when he had first discovered that he was magic? The first adults he had met who did not look down on him with disdain, who did not treat him as if he was something less than the average human; the first people to provide him with a real _home _and some small sense of security.

"I…"

How could he tell them… something like… something like_ this?_

"Harry, are you alright? Have you been hurt?" Dumbledore's voice, suddenly urgent as he watched Harry struggle.

Harry looked up to meet Dumbledore's sincere gaze, and saw the fear there - fear for him and his wellbeing. He buried his face in his hands and mumbled out an answer. "I-I don't know, sir."

"You don't know what, Harry?"

"Can-can Snape just go? I don't want to…" he trailed off uncertainly.

"It's _Professor _Snape, Harry." Dumbledore corrected gently, before looking towards the Potions Master in question.

"I don't CARE if he's a _bloody _Professor! I want him _gone!_" Harry shouted suddenly, head shooting up to glare at his Headmaster, eyes flashing.

"Mr. Potter!" Professor McGonagall admonished, slightly shocked. Dumbledore gave her a loaded look before turning back to Professor Snape.

"Severus?" he asked quietly.

"Certainly, Headmaster."

A second later, Harry heard the door snap shut behind him, flinching a little at the noise.

"Harry?" said Dumbledore as soon as the man was gone.

"I'm sorry, sir. I just…" Harry shook his head helplessly and lapsed into silence. It should have been easier to talk to them with Snape gone, unable to hear his accusations, but it only seemed more impossible.

"Harry, has something happened?"

"No." Harry said automatically. He paused for a good minute and then forced himself to speak again. "Y-yes."

"Has your scar been hurting you? Another dream, perhaps?" The same conclusions Hermione had drawn days earlier.

"No, nothing like that, sir. It wasn't Voldemort… at least-at least I don't _think_ it was." he said thoughtfully.

"You don't believe it to have anything to do with Voldemort?"

Harry ran a hand anxiously through his tangled hair. "I don't know," he moaned, frustrated with himself. What if that's what had been happening. Maybe Snape was being possessed like Ginny had the year the Chamber of Secrets had opened. She had said that she couldn't remember the things she'd done while under Riddle's control.

"Harry -"

"It's Snape, sir." Harry said sharply, eyes squeezing shut.

"What about him, my dear boy?"

Harry took several deep breaths, steeling himself.

"Snape's… what happened."

There was a thick silence as the two Professors processed this, then Dumbledore clasped his hands in front of him and said quietly, "I see."

"No, you don't!" Harry snapped, an irrational anger coming over him, dissipating almost as quickly as it had come. What the hell was wrong with him?

"You're right, Harry, I don't. I need you to tell me what has happened."

"He… After Oc-clumency last week, he -" Harry's throat closed off and the words became choked and thick. "I don't k-know what happened. And then - _everything _just -" God, now he was crying. He shut his eyes and pressed his palms hard against them, as if he was trying to force the tears back where they came from.

A small, warm weight rested on Harry's shoulder and he jumped slightly, looking up to see Professor McGonagall, a comforting hand gently squeezing his shoulder.

"He-he wasn't normal. Well, I dunno, maybe he was, but then he h-hit me and… did s-something else… But then, afterwards, he didn't-didn't remember. Any of it. And then he just sent me away… back to Gryffindor Tower, like nothing was d-different."

Even the portraits on the walls were completely silent.

"M-maybe it was my fault because I looked at some of his memories, but I didn't mean to do it, I really didn't. I was just tired and he was making me so angry, but it was an accident and I -" he was babbling now, and was almost glad when McGonagall interrupted him. Almost.

"Mr. Potter," she began shakily, face white, "What exactly did Professor Snape do after he struck you?"

Harry looked up at her, eyes pleading. "I-I can't - Professor…"

"I'm afraid you must."

Harry leaned forward once more and cradled his head in his hands. The mumbled words were too quiet to be heard.

"A little more volume, Mr. Potter, if you will."

Harry gasped quietly, the tears of mortification coming swiftly now.

He lifted his head slowly and stared down towards the floor, not seeing anything. He was floating again.

"He…" it was nothing more than a whisper, but spoken clearly, "He hurt me. R-raped me." He couldn't believe those words had just come out of his mouth, didn't look up to see his Professor's reactions. Just sat silently and waited, deaf and blind to the world around him.

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_**A/N:**_ I'm... not completely sure if that's a cliffhanger or not. If it is... please don't kill me! So cruel after such a long wait. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter.

So there you go, Harry has finally told someone the truth about what's been happening to him. I think he's kind of out of it now, so he probably hasn't even registered what he's just done.

Tell me your thoughts in a review, good or bad. I love hearing from you guys, and it makes the work I've been putting into this totally worth it.


	8. Healing Hands

_****__**A/N:**_ No excuses. I am a wretched author who does not deserve the kind readers' forgiveness. But you're not here to listen to me try to apologize (*squints* if any of you are still _there_ at all), you're here for the next chapter. So read now, and curse my sad existence as an author later.

_Slight revision as of 2/13/11. It was pointed out to me that Madam Pomfrey's reaction was unrealistic, that bedside manner should come over any amount of shock - I tried to convey that here. Also fixed a few places I wasn't happy with._

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Chapter 8: Healing Hands

The air was thick with a tense silence, swelling throughout the room, buzzing harshly in the inhabitants' ears. The two professors stared down at the teenager before them - who appeared to be going into shock - and shared an uneasy glance. Harry was sitting in his chair, still as stone with his hands clasped in a white knuckled grip in his lap, jaw tightly set, eyes glazed and unseeing.

It explained everything, they thought, the erratic and defensive behavior; the attempted alienation of the boy's few friends; his declining performance in classes… everything.

And yet, it made absolutely no sense whatsoever. Severus Snape had done many cruel things throughout his lifetime: Throughout his years as a Death Eater, he had kidnapped, tortured, murdered - and then again during the past few months as a spy among the ranks of the Dark Lord - and it was part of the reason he had ended up joining the Order all those years ago, shortly before the Potter murders. He was an ambitious and clever man, and he had taken the Dark Mark in his search for power; causing needless harm in others had never been something the man particularly enjoyed.

So then, the question became: why?

Dumbledore sighed, feeling far more weary and old than he ever had before.

Before he could ask questions, before anything was to be done, Harry needed to be examined properly and most likely required medical attention. At this very moment, he must have been suffering immensely, both with physical and emotional pain coursing through him in equal measure.

"Harry?" The old wizard asked, surprised to find himself speaking in a hoarse whisper.

There was no response from Harry, not even a twitch of movement.

"Harry, it's over." said Dumbledore slowly, "You're safe. Now, we need to have you brought down to Madam Pomfrey -"

Here Harry interrupted, though his eyes remained glassy and continued to stare into the same spot on the floor. "What for?" he asked quietly, voice low and bleak.

"The usual tedious examinations, my boy. We need to know that you have not been severely injured, and be able to take the necessary precautions if you have." said Dumbledore gently.

"'M fine, sir." Harry mumbled distractedly, eyes finally looking up to focus on the Headmaster. "Really, I don't need - I don't want -"

"I am afraid," said Dumbledore gravely, leaning forward slightly in his high-backed chair, "that this is one of those unpleasant actions that is required of us by the law. It is my duty, Harry, as your Professor, to ensure that you receive the proper care. Humor me, if you will. Then you may rest as you wish."

Harry's body heaved with a weighted sigh, but he sat up a little straighter, hands still clenched in tight fists, looking resigned. "What do I have to do, sir?"

"Not very much, I promise you that." Dumbledore slowly got to his feet and walked around his desk in the direction of the wide, double doors. He glanced back to see Harry standing unsteadily by his chair, McGonagall hovering slightly behind him and watching with a wary eye, as if she expected the boy to fall over at any moment.

He gestured towards the exit with an open and frail hand, and said soberly, "Shall we, then?"

McGonagall looked up as if she was just waking from a dream. "Yes. Yes, of course. Come along, Mr. Potter." Though her face was drawn and pale, and her hands were shaking slightly at her sides, her voice was steady and clipped as it always was, though perhaps a slight bit softer.

Harry said nothing and moved forward as if in a trance, one foot after the other in an almost mechanical rhythm.

And so the party set off through the castle in undisturbed silence but for the shuffling of feet and the soft shift of clothing. There were simply no words adequate in a situation such as this, no appropriate way of going about the everyday conversation that was usually relied upon to fill the quiet.

Behind the cold eyes, the stiff demeanor, Harry's entire world was crumbling to ash, creating a cacophony that filled his ears and his ears only. What had he to gain from his confession? Comfort? Help? Did it even matter that he had said it? There would be kind, pitying words exchanged; he would be thoroughly examined, both physically and mentally, and treated as needs arose; Snape would be gone.

_Snape would be gone…_

There was nothing anyone could do or could have done to change the fact that it had happened. He knew this _(Harry felt a wrenching sensation in his lungs at this, a feeling that something invaluable had been lost)_. He could not simply lock this part of his life away, leave it behind or bury it. The events of the past several days had changed him and he would never forget. But perhaps future experiences, future memories and pain, could be prevented.

Harry retraced this thought process several times, reinforcing his decision as he did so. Of course it mattered; as painful as it was now, this move had the potential to change everything for him.

For the first time in what seemed to be an eternity, Harry felt a pleasant, warm fluttering in his belly: the feeling of security seemed so foreign to him now. _Snape would be gone!_

The group turned a corner and entered into a corridor that was slowly filling with the pale morning light, the rows of windows providing a magnificent view of the sunrise as it struggled over the mountain peaks in the distance. It was beautiful, certainly, but it was also cold and weak. A new day.

They came upon the wide oak doors that opened into the infirmary and Dumbledore pushed them wide, striding forward into the empty wing. "I do believe that Poppy should be awake by now. Harry, feel free to choose any one of the beds here. I daresay, you must be quite exhausted by now."

Harry gave an almost imperceptible nod and sank down onto the nearest bed, wincing slightly as he perched on the edge. Despite his dazed appearance, he was simply too restless and uncomfortable to try and fall sleep at this point.

Dumbledore stepped purposefully through one of the side doors in the room and closed it behind him with a quiet _snick, _leaving Harry and his Head of House alone in the wide ward. He could feel her eyes on him, burning a hole in the back of his head - as was to be expected.

"Mr. Potter," she began, faltering for a moment before she regained her composure. "This wasn't your fault, you know. I expect you anticipated something along those lines and have just as quickly discarded it, but there you are."

Harry shifted uncomfortably and his eyes drifted over to the window, red and still burning. He didn't want to hear any of this; the whole affair was just so damn humiliating

"As a teacher, it was Professor Snape's responsibility to ensure your safety, and as a student, you have a right to expect that of him - no matter who you are or how talented you have become in defensive magic."

A single hot tear streaked, unseen, down his face to hang precariously at his chin. Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd properly cried before this mess, not even after the events on the night of the Third Task. There was a part of him, a very small part, that was telling him to just push it all back and pull himself together, possibly the last whisperings of pride he had left. The rest of him simply didn't have the energy to care.

"Well… There's not much else to say on that matter, is there?" she quietly cleared her throat and went on, "If you did not return to your dorm last night, your friends must be quite worried by now. It surprises me that they're not yet knocking down the door."

Harry swallowed hard. Would they tell Ron and Hermione? Would _he _have to tell them? At the end of this nightmare, would the whole world have to know?

_No,_ a small voice whispered in his head - then louder and louder: _No, no, no, no…_

He jumped and raised his eyes as a door banged open and the old headmaster reentered the room, a nightgown-clad Madame Pomfrey following close at his heels.

"Ah, there you are!" she snapped, sweeping forward at a clipped pace. "Up you get, let me have a proper look at you."

Harry stood slowly, hiding a wince when the movement pulled painfully at his - er - _injury,_ as the medi-witch came to hover over him. She began what he assumed to be a general examination, pulling out her wand and running the tip along his arms, fingers, shoulders, and sternum. Eyebrows furrowed in concentration, she rapped his skull rather sharply with the wand, muttering a constant stream of Latin throughout the process. She pursed her lips, obviously not happy with what she found, before kneeling down to scan his legs, at which point he paled and jerked instinctively away.

Madam Pomfrey tut-tutted softly and returned to her full height, hands at her hips. "Well? Out with it, boy, what have you managed to get yourself into this time?" she asked distractedly, pulling a stretch of parchment from the nearest bedside drawer. Harry watched silently - her absent minded question ignored and forgotten - as she pressed her wand tip to the parchment, the results of the scan appearing there in shiny, blazing green ink. He hardly dared to breathe.

"…"

"…This… Albus, you never mentioned…" she whispered, voice suddenly harsh and less composed than her usual bedside manner. She turned around to stare at him with a deep frown, eyebrows furrowed in sudden comprehension and what he understood to be pity. A moment later it was gone, replaced once again with her professional countenance, but he knew what he had seen there. He had expected it, yes, and in his frightened and angry defiance he had told himself that he would be able to handle it when it came, but the crushing reality and truth in that gaze inflicted a wound that he doubted he would ever get used to. He dropped his suddenly watery gaze to the floor and steeled himself.

In a voice he barely recognized as his own, low and angry, he looked the headmaster straight in the eye and said, "There. That's all you needed, isn't it? Can I go now?"

Dumbledore took the test results in one withered old hand and quickly skimmed through the information there. For only a few seconds, he closed his eyes and allowed a look of pained acceptance to reign across his features, and then he was looking at his student, once again the calm headmaster who had everything under control.

"I rather thought you would have preferred to have your injuries healed before returning to -"

"I don't need anything!" he interrupted harshly. "I'm fine!"

"Mr. Potter," said Madame Pomfrey, "I'm afraid that this cannot be left unattended. Aside from the pain, there's the risk of infection to be considered."

"Can't you just - just give me something for it then? That I can take with me so I don't have to…" He gestured helplessly towards the beds, backing a single step away towards the doors.

Madame Pomfrey gave a long suffering sigh and bustled over towards her office. "A good standard healing potion will do I suppose, but if the pain hasn't faded by the end of the hour you're to come straight back here. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, ma'am,"

"Now then," she said, coming to stand before him with a small bottle in hand, "Apply this directly to the wound, gently of course, and leave it alone for two minutes at the least. It might still smart a bit for a while, but after that you should be fine. You'll come to see me, regardless of whether or not it's still hurting, tomorrow after you've finished all your classes."

Harry winced. "Yes, ma'am."

Her eyes narrowed as she looked him up and down, apparently searching for signs of deceit, before letting out a small "hmph!" and roughly depositing the bottle in Harry's hand. "Good. Off you get, then, if you're so eager to be gone!"

Harry glanced around at Professor Dumbledore and McGonagall, as if to make sure he really was permitted to leave, before turning on his heel and positively fleeing from the sunny hospital wing.

* * *

The boys' bathroom was completely empty when he pushed the door open so many minutes later and stepped onto the grimy tiled floor. He only hoped that it would remain that way until he was completely finished with his task.

He quickly peeled off his clothes and entered into the largest shower stall, the potion clutched tightly in his hand as he pulled the curtain shut. He turned the knob for warm water as high as it would go and stepped under the stream, placing the little bottle on the soap shelf, fully intending to scrub himself raw before he went anywhere near it.

After spending thirty minutes under the hot water, Harry was forced to concede that his entire body was simply going to continue to tremble, teeth chattering and all, unable to relax as he had hoped. It was ridiculous. He finally admitted defeat and shut the shower off, still standing in the center of the no-longer-white tiles, body shivering and damp.

There were several minutes of stillness and complete silence except for the dripping of the water, then Harry turned and sent a weak glare in the direction of his healing potion, a concoction that had most likely been made down in the dungeons by Professor Snape. He wasn't an idiot: he knew that it most likely wasn't poison - he's never been hurt by the hospital wing's stock of potions before - but just the thought that Snape's greasy hands had touched the ingredients and the glass phial that they were held in…

He gingerly dried himself off with one of the fluffy towels and stood in front of a grimy sink, little glass bottle held loosely in his hand. Harry closed his eyes, yanked the cork out, and poured it all down the drain.

* * *

Harry considered going into the Great Hall to join Ron and Hermione for breakfast, but the second he was able to hear the sheer volume and number of voices from within, he found that he just couldn't face it. After everything that had happened, he felt a world apart from his friends and classmates - alienated, a freak. And so he returned to the now quiet dormitory instead, he supposed so that he could grab his books before the morning classes begun.

His hands were shaking as he unlocked and opened the clasps of his trunk, a cursory glance revealing a mess that he was not in the mood to sort through now or at any other time. Straining, Harry's eyes wandered over towards the immaculately made bed, soft cover smooth and feather pillows fluffed and waiting. After so many hours and days of difficult choices, he found it to be the simplest decision he had ever made to crawl beneath the heavy blankets and shut the world away.

* * *

**_A/N:_** So, let me know if you found any mistakes. When I found this thing sitting on my computer half finished, I sorta just panicked, wrapped it up, and updated. Hopefully it's not too bad. I've been pretty distracted lately with graduation stuff and getting in enough volunteer hours (which are required, of course, in my school only... grumble grumble) and my job. I'm not going to lie and say that fanfiction is the center of my universe.

On another note, I am so pumped about college. I can practically taste the freedom... and the ramen. Can definitely taste a lot of future ramen.


	9. AN Urgent Notice!

I sincerely apologize for this 'not an update' update. I wouldn't do something like this unless I thought it was really important - which it is!

Apparently, FFn is actually going to start enforcing the "no sex or violence" policy and are going to start deleting violators. So - what is that - half the site?

Here is the warning, which was spotted on the Homepage a few days ago: "June 4th 2012 - Notices: ◦Please note we would like to clarify the content policy we have in place since 2002. follows the Fiction Rating system ranging from Fiction K to Fiction M. Although Fiction Ratings goes up to Fiction MA, since 2002 has not allowed Fiction MA rated content which can contain adult/explicit content on the site. only accepts content in the Fiction K through Fiction M range. Fiction M can contain adult language, themes and suggestions. Detailed descriptions of physical interaction of sexual or violent nature is considered Fiction MA and has not been allowed on the site since 2002."

I have all of my fics saved to my computer, so if any of it gets deleted, I'll post somewhere else and provide links - or just tell you where they are since FFn hates links. It really sucks because, so far as I've seen, FFn has the most convenient format and the widest range of fandoms of any one site. A lot of these really great stories (especially those in the more obscure fandoms and/or whose authors have abandoned them) are going to just disappear…forever.

So, please, if you think your stories might be deleted, save them to your computer and provide a way for readers to reach them. I've been going through my list of Favorites and Alerts _(taking a long time) _and saving them as well.

The best solution would, of course, be if we stop this from happening in the first place - so sign the petition and save FFn!

www . change petitions / fan fiction - net - stop - the - destruction - of - fan fiction - net


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